


Freaky Thorsday

by orphan_account



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Bodyswap, Brotherly feels, Family Fluff, Gen, Loki Needs a Hug, Some Humor, Spells & Enchantments, dragon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-18 17:01:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1436020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the eve of his brother's test for the Einherjar, Loki aspires to be more like Thor. Unfortunately, the sorceress he seeks for aid has other ideas—that the Odinsons' happiness can only be obtained through understanding of each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This Chapter: Thor fails to notice his brother's concerns and Loki asks a sorceress for a favor.

* * *

  _. . . Fate cannot be tested. Each predetermined choice branches from the trunk of The Great Tree and creates a tapestry of lives woven together. The Norns care for the stitches of destiny as they also hydrate the roots of fate, while day by day, year by year, terrible choices rise in the ash of good ones. Not one of the caretakers, not even the Norn Queen herself, can deny the occasional ponderance of free will. It is true that fate cannot be tested—although it is not for want of trying . . ._

* * *

 “And then, with a mighty swing of my ax, the tide swung in our favor!”

 

“Now now, good friend, do not diminish my sword's usefulness! Or worse, underestimate the significance of Hogun the Grim!”

 

“Oh, please. You all brag with the boorish impudence of men—clearly, it was I who laid the final blow after all of you served as fitting distractions.”

 

Hollers and cheers break all around to encourage the rapidly escalating tale of the Bilgeschnipe. The tides of the battle had never actually neared danger, but when it comes to matters of glory, exaggerating and even outright lying always find their place—at least for these five buffoons.

 

Thor raises his goblet in the air to signal another round. “Do not forget my role in the battle! My hammer Mjolnir . . .”

 

And that is when Loki truly abandons the conversation. It's not because Thor's lengthy monologue will prevent Loki from taking pride in his own accomplishments, nor is it because his brother and friends will fail to acknowledge such accomplishments whether Loki voices them or not.

 

Merely, he is bored.

 

Great tales of glory never appealed to him and never will. He much prefers a challenging riddle or an engaging story without a black-and-white ending. For some reason or another (likely everyone's dull, unimaginative brains), the people of Asgard consume these predictable tales of valor nearly as much as they consume their mead.

 

Taverns always welcome the promise of a good story, and Thor and his lot equally welcome the promise of good mead as a reward for a long journey. They all fit in nicely together. As usual, Loki himself sips his wine to avoid unwanted attention and tries not to murder anyone through the night.

 

He has better things to look forward to than some drunken idiocy.

 

During their quest, he finally caught the attention of one of the ladies of the Norns. Unnoticed by his would-be comrades, he managed to slip a message to the Queen of Nornheim herself, and if his message was well-received (which it would be, thanks to his political favor recently), then a powerful sorceress would meet him here tonight. He only has to watch closely, else she might slip past his sight.

 

“. . . lucky for us, Brother?”

 

Thor's words call his attention from the dark corners of the tavern, and Loki swallows the rest of his drink. He returns the goblet to the table and soaks in the eyes of the Lady Sif and the Warriors Three all upon him.

 

“What was lucky for us?” Loki asks.

 

Immediately the atmosphere drops from its former merriment. Beside him, Fandral gives that irritating, little _tsk_ , which is quickly accompanied by Volstagg's sigh. Sif mutters to Thor under her breath about how she _knew_ the trickster wasn't listening. Hogun alone seems unaffected, but Loki doesn't count his blessings.

 

Their disapproval only amuses him these days. Loki contains a smile. “Forgive me,” and there is no sincerity to his tone, “but it seems with all of this mad hollering, I must have missed your words. A pity we came here, instead of returning straight to Asgard—I might have had a better chance to hear you then.”

 

The other warriors may have exchanged uneasy looks, but Sif braves his cutting tone. “No one ever forced you to drink with us, Loki. If you wished to return to Asgard, you have only yourself to blame for staying.”

 

Coming to this tavern was his goal to begin with, but he keeps the pretense to avoid suspicion. “Ah, and leave my _dear_ friends to face whatever dangers lie on the way back home?” He chuckles at Thor's cautionary glance, and continues, unashamed. “Why, without my assistance, I fear there would be none of you left to boast of your fabricated victories.”

 

“Loki,” Thor warns. All around them, the mood of the table has soured.

 

“Oh?” Loki says. “Am I mistaken? Was I really just baggage brought along for the journey? I suppose it is of no matter that my magic saved your lungs from your broken ribs, beloved brother, but then again, you surely would have found the courage to still breathe. And you, Fandral? When the Bilgeschnipe charged, you certainly wouldn't have been trampled. Hogun's daggers would have blinded the beast a second after mine, even though he stood several paces—”

 

“If you wish to glorify yourself,” Sif says, “I would recommend doing so outside of the expense of your friends.”

 

The inconsistency between her advice and her actions forces a small smile to Loki's lips as he sips the new drink a servant sets down before him. _Yes,_ he thinks, _I agree far more than you realize._

 

The smile must have appeared mocking, for Thor's fist slams down upon the table which wobbles under his weight a second later. Loki waits patiently before setting his drink back down.

 

“Loki, what has come over you?” Thor demands. “Why do you feel your skills to be so under-appreciated? We have jested with each other all night about whose hand truly gained us this glorious victory. You had only to join in!”

 

Loki stares at Thor, deliberately without an answer. Silence to his brother's demands always erupts Thor's temper, and frequently coaxes something out of Thor that he normally wouldn't say.

 

This time is no different. “Do not tell me it is because you were outvoted today!” he exclaims with a disapproving scowl. “If you truly wished to skip the tavern, why did you not argue your point further? I would have listened!”

 

Inwardly, Loki doubts that. In fact, he had counted on Thor's easy dismissal when Loki voted to skip the tavern. He knew the group would be suspicious of his sudden interest in drinking. So instead, he says, “Do you really think my motivation to be so petty? Has it not occurred to anyone that I _am_ joining the bragging as you tell me to? Why are you so quick to say I harbor some malicious intention?”

 

“Because you always do,” Sif responds.

 

Loki smiles away his utter hatred of this woman.

 

“Calm yourselves!” Volstagg suddenly breaks in. “We have brought ourselves a great victory this day! Let us take pleasure in the celebrations, there is no need to fight amongst ourselves.”

 

For his part, Loki would love to continue the bickering, to execute his wit and force more of these heartfelt reactions. But Loki understands that his enjoyment of trickery does not take well with Asgardian society, nor those who pretend to be his friends. So he sucks up his unspoken resentment and turns his attention to Thor. “What were you saying, Brother?” he asks.

 

“Oh, yes!” Thor says, at once abated. “I was telling them how lucky it was that this was not our first encounter with a Bilgeschnipe!”

 

A sense of unease gnaws at his bones. “Ah, yes. But how is that lucky?”

 

“Because we knew its weak spot! Despite our failure to defeat one in the past, we still learned that its scales are weakest at the base of its neck, under its chin. Without our childhood adventure, Loki, I would have never known to strike there!”

 

Loki refrains from mentioning that anyone who wanted to know the weakness of a Bilgeschnipe simply needed to open a book. Regardless of their tragic adventure as children, Loki had known very well where to strike and would have told Thor before entering the fight if Thor had not mentioned it himself.

 

“Yes,” Loki agrees just to humor his brother, “lucky indeed.”

 

Thor nods his agreement. The negative effects of drinking begin to linger in Thor's bloodshot eyes, and Loki knows that when Thor gets drunk, Thor starts to brag even more—usually about saving his little brother. And their current conversation draws a bit too close to an opportunity.

 

“Of course, I'm sure one of us would have figured it out eventually,” Loki adds in order to turn the discussion to the current tale, rather than one of the past.

 

Unfortunately, the warriors and Sif are too interested at this point. “Of what do you speak, Thor? When else have you gone to slay a Bilgeschnipe?” Fandral and Volstagg hum in encouragement.

 

“Well, it was long ago!” Thor begins. “Before I had met the lot of you. My brother and I sought to claim victory for ourselves a few years after I started my training for the Einherjar. I requested Father to send me on a quest to slay a Bilgeschnipe, and he would not allow it.”

 

Loki rolls his eyes at Thor's wistful tone. “As was right. You were hardly more than a toddler.”

 

“Yes, yes.” His hand waves Loki's remarks away.

 

Hogun leans the slightest bit forward. “So what happened next?”

 

And if _Hogun_ is interested, then Loki stands no chance in redirecting the conversation. Loki leans back in his chair and prepares himself for the worst. He promises himself to not interrupt again—no matter what is said—and he fixes his eyes on the business of the tavern.

 

“Well, it took some coaxing, but eventually I convinced Loki to sneak out of the palace with me. Naturally, I wanted to share my quest with him and give him, young as he was, a chance at proving his courage.”

 

Loki will _not_ say that Thor only brought him along because his illusory magic helped smuggle them from the palace in the dead of night. It does not matter, and Thor will only argue anyway.

 

“Go on,” Sif encourages.

 

“A Bilgeschnipe turned out to be quite the formidable opponent!” Thor continues without seeing Loki's vehement expression. “You can imagine it: the two of us in the dead of night, not much more than toddlers as Loki says.”

 

“Did you actually kill a Bilgeschnipe?” Sif asks.

 

“No, no,” Thor chuckles. “No, we did not. At least, not until tonight. But, we fought it, certainly, and barely escaped with our lives! It charged my brother, and he—well . . . I remember my brother's crumpled form on the ground.”

 

Thor pauses in his telling of the story. Loki can tell Thor still feels guilt for dragging his little brother along for that crazy quest, but Thor will not admit it so Loki glares.

 

“I discovered, by chance, the weak spot beneath the Bilgeschnipe's chin! I did not carry Mjolnir at the time, but my sword pierced the softer scales and drove it back long enough to save my brother. If not for that discovery, I am almost certain that neither of us would be sitting here today!”

 

He finishes with this wide grin on his face, as if his cleverness rivaled that of the universe. The wine leaves a sour taste in Loki's mouth, and his hands grip the edge of the table in a kind of rage. Thor has skipped an entire gap in the story in order to paint himself in a more honorable light.

 

It is true that Loki nearly perished and that Thor saved him, but before any of that, Thor failed to mention that it was _Loki's_ magic that had distracted the Bilgeschnipe from Thor moments earlier, that it was _Loki's_ comment on weaknesses that led Thor to even look for one in the first place. If Loki hadn't been there, Thor would have been the one trampled and likely dead. Thor has left out Loki's role completely and made his “cherished” little brother out to be some damsel in distress.

 

Loki checks their comrade's expressions and only finds pride and delight shining in their eyes—and all of it is for Thor. He cannot understand why they accept Thor's boasting at the expense of Loki while they so thoroughly reject any attempt of his own.

 

In that moment, he wishes with every fiber that he is sitting where Thor sits right now and can bask in those gazes of pure admiration.

 

Instead, Loki's sits across from his brother while his presence remains hugely unnoticed. He stands, and it takes a full five seconds for even the first glance to turn his way.

 

“Retiring so early, Loki?” Fandral pipes up.

 

With a weariness not entirely faked, Loki nods. “Someone needs to have a good head on their shoulders tomorrow morning.”

 

Fandral scoffs good-heartedly, but Loki can feel the weight of the others' disapproval bearing on his shoulders. “Will you not stay and drink, Brother?” Thor asks. “It was a fine victory today! We all should be proud!”

 

Loki glances down at his half-drained drink. The idea of getting drunk rarely appeals to him. That enjoyment is reserved for those who show great honor and courage in the face of great strife, and there is not one person at the table who would insist on Loki's mettle in any given situation. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Sif smirk, and he believes they share the same thoughts.

 

“No,” Loki says, “though don't hold back for my sake.”

 

As he departs from the table, he hears Thor's laughter follow him the few steps away. All at once, the vengeful feeling rising within him snaps like a twig, and his hand twists an illusion of spiders onto all of their mugs. They won't notice immediately, and he doesn't intend to be there when they do.

 

He has already caught sight of the one he waited for, and he makes his way over to the secluded table in the dark corner, ignoring the chaos and shouts and hollers all around him.

 

Thor and his friends won't notice that Loki doesn't go upstairs to their rooms. They will have torn their gazes away from him the second he moved out of earshot, and Loki can imagine the poisonous words they will spit under his breath about his distasteful company. Once upon a time, Thor defended him. Now, Loki has eavesdropped enough to know it isn't the case anymore.

 

With a bitter edge to his smile, Loki takes a seat at the table in the corner. A hooded woman in the chair across from him stares back. He cannot place her face or see many of her features, but he sees the depth in her eyes that all Norns share. She knows the power of fate—and commands it to some degree.

 

As a child, he often felt vulnerable and tiny in the presence of a Norn, but now with years of experience with magic and knowledge, he values them only as anyone else—in how he can benefit from them.

 

His capability with magic has improved exponentially over the years, yet he still has not found a way to make himself wanted, like his brother. Shape-shifting and illusions, even spells of battle, do not touch upon a person's essence, and a good essence is what he needs. On the other hand, Norns deal with the magic of fate. He thinks they may be able to help him.

 

“Lady of the Norns,” Loki greets as he sits, “it is a pleasure. I trust my request has not caused you too much trouble.”

 

“No,” the woman agrees. “Coming here was but a small trifle in comparison to the favor you granted the Norns.” Her voice falls like soft starlight glinting on a glass surface. It soothes, calms, and feels as soft as the velvet of a noble's robes. “It must not have been easy to testify against a regulation on our people, considering the general mood towards us.”

 

Frankly, Odin would have sided with the Norns in the end. Loki had merely interrupted a power play of the High Counsel. But Loki sees the benefit of keeping this information to himself, and he wants a return favor strongly enough to lie by omission. “It was of no concern for the second Prince of Asgard,” he replies pleasantly—and it's true. It seems that no matter what he does, his reputation cannot fall any lower with the people of Asgard, who value everything his older brother is and despise anything else.

 

The woman inclines her head, and Loki catches a glimpse of sharp but elegant eyebrows drawn together. “Yes,” she says slowly, “it is the way of the majority. People fear what they do not understand, and understanding takes courage, and determination. I am glad to hear we have such determined allies in Asgard, Prince Loki.”

 

For a moment, Loki's heart stutters in his chest. She, a total stranger, paid him a great compliment, _and_ she called him Loki. Then he remembers she did not actually call him courageous (only determined), and so he hides the raw emotion heading directly toward his expression. “Of course,” he says while keeping his face stiff and clean as a board. “It is my pleasure.”

 

A brief pause in the conversation may have implied her regret if he hadn't already known nothing surprises the Norns. “So, Prince of Asgard,” she says, “to what do I owe the pleasure of your invitation?”

 

“I am constructing a spell, and I seek advice.”

 

He draws in a deep breath because this will be the hard part. A chance glanced around confirms that no one is watching and that Thor and his friends still make fools of themselves at the table. The shadows obscure their conversation from unwanted attention. Even the waiters don't intrude.

 

Loki releases his breath, and focuses all his attention upon the woman of Nornheim. “It is as you say: people are distrusting of oddities. I wish for a spell that will ease people's minds, stretch their flexibility to change. Perhaps then, the prejudices against the Norns and other magic users will go away.”

 

The woman stares at him for a long time. “You are a wielder of magic yourself, yes?” she asks.

 

“Yes,” he relinquishes. He did not want to involve himself in the matter, for it reveals a vulnerability about himself that even those closest to him do not know. But the neglected, lonely part of him longs so much for this spell that will _fix_ everything that he is willing to risk his fragile heart. “But,” he adds, “it will change many things if I can accomplish this. I would use it for the benefit of the Norns as well.”

 

Pale lips spread tightly into a smile, and her voice darkens to match that of a new moon. “This is dark magic you speak of, Loki Odinson,” she whispers. “Are you sure you are qualified to handle it? Are you certain you will not cause more harm than good?”

 

Loki reads her posture for his next words. She sits properly in the chair without any immediate change and for the most part, appears relaxed and at ease as any stranger would. His request has not offended her—she is just asking. Loki answers. “I am able to conceal magic from any noteworthy being. The Gatekeeper Heimdall currently believes me to be upstairs sleeping in my room, and my father will prove no more troublesome. As for my qualifications, I do know what I ask and I have some semblance of care.” _Unlike my brother_ , he thinks with another glance at the table.

 

This time, the woman follows his gaze and lingers on Thor. Over the course of several moments, Loki begins to feel agitated that she won't return her attention to him. This spell has nothing to do with Thor. Thor will not know of it; he will only be affected by it like everyone else.

 

Eventually he realeases his tongue from his teeth. “Lady of the Norns, I understand your hesitance, but every good decision comes with some measure of risk. Surely you must know that more than most.”

 

Finally she turns her gaze upon him, but her smile has relaxed into one of pity. Loki bristles.

 

“You are jealous of your brother,” she says, and though it sounds like a question, Loki doubts she wants an answer. He bites back every insult his mind conjures and takes a deep breath.

 

“I only want to open Asgard's mind from prejudice. Nothing more.” The conversation seems lost, so Loki prepares his gracious goodbyes. Perhaps she will not aid him now, but if he has need of a spell in the future, he does not want to burn the bridge he spent so long building. “I appreciate your answer,” he says, “and will not press you further in hopes that our future interactions remain pleasant.”

 

The Norn woman lifts a hand, and Loki moves to stand and help her to her feet. Then he catches the glint of moonlight through the window sparkle across a peculiar stone. On closer inspection, he recognizes a Norn Stone.

 

All words vanish from his throat.

 

“This is enchanted,” the woman says, “to grant you what you need.”

 

“You will fulfill my request?” Loki says, somewhat surprised.

 

The woman smiles and just holds the necklace closer to him. After a moment, Loki takes it carefully into his hands and holds it closer for inspection. The tavern's lights diminish its impact, but under the streaks of light from the window, the stone glitters an array of colors not unlike the Rainbow Bridge.

 

It is beautiful.

 

“Wear the necklace ere you sleep tonight. Tomorrow,” the woman continues, “your brother will receive his final quest on his road to become an Einherjar. Accompany him, and its magic will serve you well.”

 

For a moment, Loki is at a loss. “I thank you, Lady of the Norns.”

 

“Do not thank me yet,” she says. “Remember what I told you, young one. Understanding requires determination and courage, from all parties involved, as well as a great deal of trust. To trust one with what you would have them understand is no simple feat. And yet, upon acceptance, the blossoming love triumphs over any bitter patch of grass.”

 

Loki suppresses the urge to raise an eyebrow at the simplicity behind her words. He, of course, knows the Norns to be infinitely wise, but surely they don't see him as a mere child in need of a bedtime story. He forces a smile and gently bunches up the strand of the necklace. To show his reverence of her pristine gift, he takes care in placing it in a pocket and ensuring its safety.

 

When he looks up, the Norn woman is gone, leaving only a solitary warmth in her place.  


* * *

An hour later, Loki still does not wear the necklace.

 

He sits near the window and contemplates what the sorceress said. The Norn stone twinkles in the moonlight, but without the torches and lamps downstairs, he can admire its glass sphere filling with a spectrum of colors.

 

Loki wants to believe that the necklace will solve things. He wants to believe that people dislike him because as a child, he often pulled pranks and relished in chaos and mischief and now they refuse to give him a chance. One time, he went too far, out of petty jealousy, and cut Sif's hair to the scalp. He wants to believe she judges him so harshly because she hasn't forgiven him.

 

Loki's greatest fear is that the necklace will solve nothing.

 

Suspicions nag at his heart that people dislike him because he is _Loki_ . That his very basis of character holds no redeeming value. That the necklace will broaden people's minds but not make Loki _likable_. He fears that at his own heart, he is unworthy of acceptance.

 

When he hears the door rustle as Thor approaches, Loki swallows down his deepest fears, and pulls the necklace around his neck.

 

By the time the door opens, Loki shoves the necklace under his tunic and leans back in his chair as if to admire the ever-changing view of Asgard's constellations. No night ever matches that of the last, as Asgard floats around through space without orbit. It is less strange for him to be watching the sky than holding a necklace.

 

“You're still awake?”

 

Thor's words slur with the mead in his body. At least he can stumble to his bed. Loki would not enjoy becoming Thor's crutch for the night. Thor should be ashamed when it happens, but Loki always ends up more embarrassed than Thor.

 

“Either I'm awake, or you are really drunk,” Loki replies, and stands from the chair.

 

The teasing lacks the usual glint in his eye, and unfortunately, Thor notices. “Brother, I am sorry about earlier. I should not have chastised you so.” He manages to pull off his tunic and sit on the bed. “Sometimes it's just hard to know whether you mean things or not.”

 

The apology surprises Loki, but not much, because Thor is drunk. He moves to close the door that Thor left open. “Whether I mean things or not?” he asks.

 

“When you tease us, sometimes you sound so serious.”

 

Loki's hands tremble as he twists the handle of the door. He thanks the stars that Thor is too drunk to notice, and then makes his way to the adjacent bed to prepare for sleep. The unfamiliar necklace bounces on his chest as he walks, and he wonders if its magic already works on Thor now.

 

“Thor, when you receive your Einherjar quest, will you choose me to accompany you?”

 

Elbow cast over his forehead, Thor glances at him. “Why?”

 

Loki avoids telling him about what the Norn woman told him. “I would rather you choose me to keep watch on your back than one of your typical warrior friends. They won't see things that I will notice.”

 

“Oh?” Thor chuckles, but the grin spreading on his face is real. “You know, traditionally an Einherjar candidate complete his quest alone.”

 

“You have the choice of one companion,” Loki reminds him. He doesn't bother to remove his tunic because when they reach Asgard in the morning, a fresh change of clothes will await him in the palace. Besides, he never understands Thor's comfort in removing his clothes so easily. Well-built or not, Loki could never relinquish his sense of privacy. “Will you choose me, Brother?” he asks again because Thor's breathing starts to resemble snoring.

 

“Yes,” Thor murmurs. “I can think of no other person I would rather have at my back.”

 

Thor hasn't even taken his boots off, and Loki withholds a sigh. Silence befalls them for several minutes. The light of the moon slowly travels across the wooden floor of the inn room, and breaths fill the room with a lethargic air.

 

The bed adjacent to his creaks as Thor shifts. “Did something trouble you tonight, Loki? The spiders you left on our drinks—”

 

“Go to sleep, Thor.”

 

And he does.

 


	2. Eye of the Beholder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor finds himself two inches shorter and Loki finds himself excessively strong—neither of them are particularly comfortable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Hope you guessed already, but body swap! I used to hate those, so you can imagine my surprise when I ended up writing one. XD If you're disturbed, I will warn you to get out of here while you still can. :) No harm, no foul. Enjoy!

Thor twists the sheets around himself to try to get a little air. It's  _hot_ . Unbearably hot. As if someone dumped him in a lava pit of Muspelheim and left him to cook overnight. The bedsheets stick to the sweat on his skin, and the fabric around his chest feels suffocating. 

 

He wants to yell at Loki for closing the window—because surely his brat of a little brother probably closed it to spite him—but he has never slept so well after drinking so much. He doesn't want to ruin the moment.

 

Light begins to creep around the edges of his vision, and invades his numbed mind. He is surprised Loki let him sleep in so late. Usually Loki awakes at the crack of dawn, so if the sunlight is just barely hitting Thor's bed, far away from the window, Loki must have shown a rare glimpse of mercy.

 

No wonder Thor's head doesn't ache if he has slept in so long.

 

Someone is moving about the room, he can hear the rustling of some fabric of someone getting dressed, but Thor merely groans and rolls over onto his stomach. The groan comes out a touch higher than he intends, but it conveys his grogginess nonetheless.

 

Then, a hand nudges his shoulder and starts groping at his neck, and Thor realizes he is dressed—even though he clearly remembers taking off his tunic last night. Awareness seeps into his bones, but slowly. He recognizes his brother's presence and so there is no sense for alarm.

 

As Thor's eyes slide open, his brother speaks. Loki's voice sounds strange, deeper, as if his vocal chords fell to the bottom of some glass container. “Thor, listen to me. Something has happened.” It also sounds hesitant, deliberately soothing.

 

“Mmm, did you sleep well, Brother?” Thor mumbles, and his own voice sounds a bit off too. Must be the heat. A little concerned but still tired, Thor draws his arm up to wipe at his mouth, and pauses as something feels _wrong_. He can't figure out what it is, but a spike of lucidity travels up his chest. 

 

“You need to listen to me right now, Thor,” Loki continues more urgently, and Thor starts to lift his head. “Don—Don't look over here just yet.”

 

He hears the edge of panic, and decides to listen to Loki. Sleep still gnaws at his consciousness, and there's no urgency. Loki is here, and if a pressing concern threatened them, Thor could wake in less than a second. As it is, he takes his time and stretches out his body and arms with a large yawn.

 

“I slept splendidly,” he says while rubbing his palms into his eyes. “Though it was a bit hot.” As his eyes clear the early blur from his vision, he sees two troubling things. For starters, the window is much closer to the bed than he remembers, and second, the hems of his sleeves confirm his suspicion that he has somehow donned clothes overnight. Slightly startled, he peers down at his chest and finds the green and black tunic that Loki wore to bed last night. “Brother, why am I wearing your clothes?”

 

“See, that is what I'm trying to tell you,” Loki says. “It seems we are under an enchant—”

 

Thor stops.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his brother lift his hands in a placating gesture—but they aren't Loki's hands. Something about them is extremely familiar.

 

Thor's eyes dart over to Loki, and what he sees is  _not_ Loki, but himself. A perfect replica of the person Thor sees in the mirror every day.

 

Immediately his dulled concern melts into battle lust. The fatigue drains away from him, and he leaps to his feet and slams this—this  _thing_ into a wall. “Who are you, imposter! And what have you done with my brother!”

 

“Thor! Thor, calm down!” The creature's hands go for Thor's wrists, and it looks odd. Almost like an out-of-body experience, because he has seen large, calloused hands grip small pale wrists a hundred different times—but never on this side of things.

 

The uncertainty feeds his rage, and he uses all his might to tear away from the grip.

 

He finds this harder than expected. As hard as Thor tugs, the creature's grip doesn't budge in the slightest. It is defying the law of gravity itself, and he just can't break free. It is no consolation that this imposter looks just as surprised as Thor.

 

Thor panics, as he never has in his life, and the most undignified squeak escapes his lips (he meant for it to be a grunt, he really did). Then, the imposter rolls his eyes—eyes that look flawlessly like Thor's—and sets a weary glower at him. The gesture is unmistakably Loki's.

 

“I would laugh if it were any other voice but mine that you made to sound so pathetic,” his brother says, and horror dawns upon Thor.

 

“What do you mean?” Thor replies, but the smoother quality to his voice starts to make sense. 

 

The imposter—or Loki actually—releases him, and Thor's hands immediately go to his face. He remembers feeling something odd with his mouth earlier, and he now knows what is wrong. Smooth skin greets the pads of his fingers rather than the bristly stubble he is used to.

 

Immediately, Thor makes his way over to the mirror, and he feels much shorter, much lighter on his feet, small, confined to such a tiny space. His limbs don't move with the force he is used to, and it nearly causes him to stumble.

 

His brother realizes where he is headed, and a large hand encloses on Thor's smaller shoulder. To Loki's credit, the grip has slackened incredibly to accommodate the greater strength, so Thor manages to slip out of his grasp and peer at himself in the mirror.

 

“Thor, you might not want to—”

 

Loki's wide green eyes stare back at Thor in the reflection. Thor's lips spread agape in shock, which jars him when the reflection does the same. His hands slowly rise to the raven hair curly with bed tangles, and the mirror copies his movements as they slowly cover down the sharper features of the face.

 

He is  _inside_ Loki's body.

 

“I'm not sure whether I should be flattered or insulted right now,” Loki says with _Thor's_ voice.

 

The comment converts his horror again to rage. Thor turns to his body, currently inhabited by his younger brother, and he slams a fist against the wall. The blow does more injury to his hand than the wood, but he doesn't care. “What have you done, Loki!”

 

Loki forces a smile, and holds up his hands. “I haven't exactly—”

 

“Fix it!” Thor roars, but it doesn't come out the way he wants. He compensates with quantity. “Fix it _now_!” 

 

His following lunge to pin his brother to the wall does little to budge Loki from his spot on the floor, and both of them soon realize that the body swap has also switched their physical strengths and weaknesses. Thor cannot win against Loki now—at least, not with brute force—and that terrifies him more than he cares to admit.

 

Loki's smile transforms into a smirk once the realization solidifies in his mind. He pushes Thor back. “I don't know. I rather like this change.”

 

Thor growls. “Loki.”

 

“Yes, yes,” Loki says dismissively. “If you will stay calm for a few seconds, I was trying to explain to you earlier. You should be wearing a necklace that I believe is responsible for the enchantment.”

 

The words sound light and easy, but years of companionship with his brother reveal Loki's nervousness, despite the change in their voices. If anything, Thor can recognize the nervous tension better in his own voice than he can in Loki's.

 

“If we remove the necklace from you, or rather, _my_ neck,” Loki continues, “then the spell should reverse.”

 

“Is that it?” Thor asks.

 

“I believe so _.”_

Thor scans his brother up and down for a moment. Loki's brow creases with discomfort, shadows linger under his eyes, and Thor remembers how that body downed up to at least three barrels of mead last night. If the effects haven't followed him to Loki's body, then Loki must suffer the hangover now. He looks tired and strained. Thor decides to be lenient.

 

He scrunches up his nose just to show Loki that once they're back in their rightful bodies, there's going to be some serious questions, but the expression serves only to make Loki chuckle. The sound does not fit his brother's voice, and unsettled, Thor hastily reaches into his tunic, and finds the necklace.

 

Lifting it reveals a stone that oddly glitters in the morning light. It looks familiar, but several seconds pass before Thor finally recognizes it. “Is this a Norn Stone?” he asks incredulously.

 

Loki looks at him. “Yes. Take it off.”

 

“How in the Nine Realms did you find a Norn Stone, Loki?” He pauses and gives his brother a second look. “And why did you use it to switch bodies with me?”

 

“I didn't intend to switch bodies with you, Thor,” Loki seethes with barely contained impatience. “Take it off and reverse the spell before you can do anything else to disgust me with your use of my body.”

 

“Disgust you?”

 

“You snore!” The sound of Loki's borrowed voice roars in Thor's sensitive ears, and he suppresses an urge to step back. Equally startled by the volume, Loki lowers his tone. Somewhat. “And I woke to find you drooling onto my pillow from _my_ lips. Not to mention, your underhanded shows of failed brute force, and the horridly undignified way you use my voice—”

 

“Oh! That bothers you, does it?” Thor's heart pounds in his chest with adrenaline, sending blurred edges of water to the corners of his eyes—damn this body and how _sensitive_ everything feels in it. Even his voice fails to sound as thunderous as he expects. “What about how _I_ feel! Waking up to a body, not my own, and lacking the physical strength I have spent centuries building! It's your fault, not mine!”

 

“Then take off the necklace!” Loki yells. “ _Stop making my voice whine like a petulant child's!_ ”

 

Loki's hangover be damned. Thor rips off the necklace just because he can't stand this argument in this weaker form anymore.

 

Nothing happens.

 

They both share a look in the silence that follows. The removal of the necklace did not put them back in their rightful place.

 

Before either of them can think of what to do next, the door opens after an urgent knock. Loki snatches the Norn Stone from Thor's hands and shoves it into his pocket, just as Sif's head peers through the crack in the door.

 

Once she sees that they are both reasonably attired, she steps in, closing the door behind her. “Is everything well? There was loud shouting,” she asks, eyes lingering longest on Loki. From her perspective, she thinks she is looking at Thor.

 

The real Thor furrows his brows in confusion, uncomprehending of her preference. He opens his mouth to speak, but Loki steps forward in front of Thor before he even gets the first syllable out.

 

“Forgive us, Lady Sif,” he says, and Thor begrudgingly admits his brother's imitation of himself to be impressive, “but my brother was insisting on being difficult this morning. I hope the noise didn't wake anyone.”

 

Irritated, Thor steps forward. “It was not my—”

 

Loki shoves him back with no small glower. “If you are ready to leave, my brother and I will be out in a moment.”

 

Sif chuckles. Her eyes hover over Thor before she nods and turns to walk out. “Try not to give him too much trouble, Loki,” she says, and the body Thor wears shivers with both rage and humiliation. Her remark is nothing Thor hasn't heard before, but for some reason, Sif's presence alights pure instincts within Loki's body that Thor doesn't recognize. As a result, he feels very insulted by her words.

 

The second the door shuts, Thor turns on Loki. “Why did you lie to her?” He also despises how easily Loki shed the blame onto him during the conversation, but he figures excuses for payback will come better once Loki admits to lying.

 

Loki raises an eyebrow, and it looks very strange upon Thor's face. “A Lady of the Norns—well, I believe she was a Norn—entrusted me with the Norn Stone,” he explains. “It appears I was tricked to believe it had another purpose.”

 

“And what _was_ the original purpose, Loki?”

 

“Irrelevant.” Loki waves his hand and walks a short distance away to start gathering Thor's armor. Though Thor's senses bristle at the sight of his brother rummaging around in his gear, he doesn't say anything. Loki continues, “I lied to Sif because the sorceress told me that you would receive your final quest for the Einherjar today.”

 

Thor's breath hitches in his throat. “Today?” he repeats. “Truly?” The first overwhelming touch of pride dies down. “Then it is with all the urgency that we tell Father and reverse this spell immediately!”

 

Loki throws the gathered armor to the floor and rounds on Thor. “Absolutely not! Do you realize how this will anger him? He cannot know.”

 

“No, Loki,” Thor says and folds his arms. It was easier to scold when he was taller than his little brother, but the action still serves him well. Loki is twisting his fingers together in his nervous habit. “I think what you mean to say,” Thor says, “is that _you_ do not _want_ him to know. I do realize how angry Father will be, and his anger will not be aimed at me.”

 

A tongue darts out to lick at Loki's lips. Thor hasn't realized how obvious the tell-tale sign of manipulation is until Thor's familiar face reveals its awkwardness. His brother is about to twist the truth. “Thor, stop and think. You know when one of us is in trouble, it soon becomes both of us.”

 

Thor laughs and steps towards Loki. “Are you willing to test that?”

 

“Thor . . .” Loki sighs. “We have no idea how to reverse the effect of the Norn Stone or how long it will take.”

 

“ _You_ have no idea,” Thor corrects.

 

“Neither do you,” he snaps back. “Just because I study magic does not make me purely responsible for finding a solution for this.”

 

“No,” Thor agrees, “you became responsible the second you thought to try such twisted magic in the first place.”

 

Loki glares as he shoves Thor's armor onto his torso. “Regardless, if we tell Father, then he will delay assigning you your quest until the situation is resolved. Perhaps, he will even find this situation unworthy of a Einherjar and wait until you have again proven your valor.”

 

Thor wants to argue, but he does see the truth to his brother's warning. “Why would he punish me for your mistake?” he tries.

 

“And it is exactly that attitude that could have your quest indefinitely postponed.” Loki pauses in his movments long enough to eye Thor's bedridden clothes, and sighs. “Get dressed. Whatever you decide, we still have to ride back to the palace.” When nothing happens, Loki stabs a finger in the air towards his bags. “My clothes are over there.Yours won't fit you.”

 

Stomping over to Loki's side of the room, he rummages until he finds Loki's usual armor. “So what are you suggesting?” Thor says. He keeps his voice low and irritated so Loki knows he hasn't agreed to anything yet.

 

“Right now, we are the only ones who know anything is amiss. Why lose this advantage now? Let's go back to the palace, see if the Lady of the Norn spoke the truth—”

 

“You don't even _know_?” 

 

Loki sighs, and moves to the mirror to arrange his (or Thor's) hair. “I am fairly certain she did not lie about this. If Odin assigns you the quest for the Einherjar, then we keep quiet and figure out how to reverse the spell ourselves before you leave. If he does not, then you can tell him everything.”

 

Loki's clothes prove more complicated than they appear. It takes most of Thor's concentration to snap the odd buckles and slip into the robe-like jacket of armor that his brother wears. When he stands, the flaps of it surround his legs uncomfortably. He wonders why his brother wears less manly clothes than even Sif.

 

Fully dressed, he thinks over Loki's words. “You're 'fairly certain,' you say,” Thor says with a cold distance to his voice.

 

Loki spares him a glance. “Certain enough that I'm willing to risk my honor upon it. What did you say a few moments ago? That Odin would be angry with me if you told him?” Loki's face spreads into an unnatural smile. “Well, I just gave you permission to tell him everything should the sorceress have lied.”

 

Thor growls. “Either way, I  _will_ tell him everything. Eventually.”

 

“Oh? Will that be before you receive your Einherjar status or after? And if you do lie to him, might I ask, to whom do you think will he direct his anger?”

 

Their swap of bodies has not swapped Loki's wit with words. Thor runs a hand through curly raven locks and sits on the bed to tug on Loki's boots. He hates Loki sometimes.

 

It is true, he has waited a very long time for his Einherjar Quest, so long in fact that a darker part of his heart began to doubt that he would ever receive it. Having trained since he was seven years of age, Thor believes it high time he can enter the elite force of Asgard. And if Father does discover this setback, there is no question in his mind that his quest will be delayed—possibly even denied to him.

 

The longer he thinks about it, the more Thor realizes that he is unwilling to give up this chance. He sneaks a glance at Loki, who is currently packing up the rest of their supplies, and decides that as much as he loves his little brother, he cannot be trusted.

 

With that, Thor makes up his mind. Thor will play Loki's game, but only until their audience with Odin. If their father really does assign the Einherjar Quest, then Thor can still change his mind. He can stand through the ceremony as Loki, but directly after, he can still tell his father the truth. With an affirming nod to himself, Thor decides to leave his options open.

 

“There's just one condition,” Thor says, and at Loki's lack of surprise, Thor sees that Loki knew from the beginning what Thor's decision would be. He swallows his pride, and sticks to his decision. 

 

Loki watches him. “What is it?”

 

“When Father allows me—well, you—to choose one companion for the quest, then I want you to choose Sif.”

 

A brief flash of hurt wipes across Loki's face, but it is gone in an instant. “But last night you said—why would you choose her? As a warrior like you, she will be ill-equipped to handle anything that you cannot. You should choose someone to complement your weaknesses, someone who—”

 

“Like you?”

 

Loki's tongue again licks at his lips. “Well, it's true I am—”

 

Thor smiles, cutting off Loki. “I would rather have someone I  _trust_ at my back than someone who is a good fit. You have proven to me this morning that I cannot trust you.” He dons Loki's bag, and makes towards the door.

 

The entire cross of the room leaves Loki in silence. Only when Thor finally reaches for the door handle does Loki speak.

 

“You can't go out like that,” he says quietly.

 

Thor huffs, and pulls the handle anyway.

 

Loki steps forward. “Thor, I mean it! You can't go out looking like that.”

 

“Why not?” Thor says and reluctantly leaves the door shut.

 

“My hair—it's a disaster.” 

 

The tension in the room relents. Thor finds himself smiling a little as he reaches up and dramatically runs his hand through the raven tangles at the top of his head. “Oh, but your curls are adorable, baby brother. I'm sure the Warriors Three and Lady Sif will adore them.”

 

“Yes, and find my sudden unkemptness to be very suspicious. Do you want them to address their concerns to the All-Father before we even meet with him? Get over here.”

 

Loki stands and tugs him over to the bed to sit down, and it again reminds Thor how much he resents Loki for stealing his body. It's so  _easy_ for Loki to get him to go where he wants, and Thor can do little to put up any fight. The smallest nudge feels like a shove while he is in Loki's smaller body, and Thor  _hates_ it.

 

“So I have to pretend to be you,” Thor says with a sniff of disdain as Loki (painfully) combs out knots and slicks back the hair in its ordinary style.

 

Loki smiles. “Actually, I would prefer you not. Let me do the talking, Brother. You will stay perfectly quiet.”

 

“And _that_ they won't find odd? You always do the talking.” _Lying_ , he means to say, but he has been rather hard on his brother this morning.

 

Loki catches his meaning anyway. “All the more credible we will be when my lies come believably from your mouth.” He applies his final touches, and rests a hand on Thor's shoulder. “There. Shall we?”

* * *

They encounter a small problem with Thor's hammer. When Loki goes to lift it onto his belt, the hammer remains unmoved and heavy on the wooden floor where Thor left it. Loki doesn't look surprised, but Thor catches his small hint of disappointment.

 

After a heated debate about illusory magic, how much energy it requires to manipulate sight  _and_ the sound of their voices for a lengthy amount of time, and how  _little_ breadth or control Thor's body has over such magical energy, Thor admits defeat and shoves the hammer carelessly into Loki's bags.

 

Loki's eyes glint at the indifference Thor shows to his belongings, but it's clear the arguments of the morning have exhausted them both beyond petty differences. Loki struggles for a few minutes to adjust to Thor's inexperienced sense of magic before finally creating the illusion that the hammer hangs on his belt.

 

He promises that the smaller spell will not strain his magic until long after Odin's audience, and Thor cautiously believes him.

 

All that is left is to stay quiet and let Loki do the talking during the ride back to the palace. Predictably, it sounds much easier to Thor than it really is.

* * *

“ You're so quiet today, Loki.”

 

Thor bites his tongue before an insult can slip past his silence. He does not understand why he suddenly despises Sif, but this is the fourth time in the last hour he literally fights down his urge to strike her. Up ahead, his brother calmly rides his horse at the head of the group, and this arrangement further dampens his mood.

 

“Is something bothering you?”

 

In truth, several things bother him today. One, Loki's horse is  _not_ listening—the creature must sense that Thor is not really Loki, and he has been hassled by its disobedience the entire hour. Second, the hair at the back of his neck stands on edge every single time Sif or one of the Warriors Three speak to him, and he doesn't understand  _why_ . And three, Loki could easily redirect Sif's attention from him with that clever tongue of his, but he won't. And it is Loki's fault that he even suffers these things in the first place!

 

Instead of confiding to her, Thor grips the harness tightly. “Leave me alone, Sif.”

 

“Why are you so angry?” Sif continues. “I am just worried. Usually you have much more to say than a simple 'good morning.'”

 

He can't put his finger on it, but Sif does not  _sound_ worried. She sounds no different than usual, but something about her body language, her attitude, her eyes implies that she cares nothing for him today. It is completely unreasonable, and were Thor not vowed to silence, he would ask her if he had somehow offended her.

 

Then again, Sif does believe him to be Loki right now, and Loki offending Sif wouldn't surprise him. “I am not angry,” he forces out between his teeth. “I just wish for quiet.”

 

Loki, up ahead, glances back at him and gives him this innocent smile—and Thor knows that his little brother knows exactly what's going on and deliberately is doing nothing to stop it. Thor's anger threatens to burst from his skull.

 

“Excuse me,” he says to Sif, and spurs the stupid horse up to have words with his brother. He waits until they are a good enough distance ahead before speaking. “Loki, will you tell her, all of them, to leave me be?” he hisses under his breath so the others will not hear.

 

“Hm? Why?” Loki asks, still falsely innocent. “Are they bothering you?”

 

“Do not act smug, Brother,” Thor warns. “It is by my mercy that you will not face Odin's wrath when you return to Asgard. Whatever you are doing to provoke them, make it stop. Now.”

 

Loki glances at him and smiles a bit wider. “You never extend that courtesy to me. Besides, I have not done anything to provoke them.”

 

“You _lie_ ,” Thor whispers. His vocal cords lack the capacity to do anything more than ferociously whisper, and it unsettles him, how close to his brother he sounds. “They have been at my throat all morning.”

 

His brother's smile remains as soft and cool as ever. “Are you sure you're not imagining it?”

 

“Of course I'm not imagining it!” Thor takes a deep breath to calm himself. “What are you doing to cause this? They have only eyes for you, and when you turn your back, they nettle me. How can you not notice?”

 

“How indeed,” Loki replies, eyes focused on the path ahead. 

 

“Loki, stop whatever you're doing to steal their attention, or I will end this game we are playing and tell Father.”

 

Finally, clear blue eyes settle on Thor, and he remembers his own to be vividly green and sharp and intelligent right now. It's strange because Thor still sees a small shred of that sharp intelligence mirrored back in those blue eyes. They may have switched bodies, but their circumstances, their souls, their minds—those have stuck with them.

 

“I'm not doing anything, Thor,” Loki says softly. His tone bites, but it is also kind and patient. “In this form, I simply have to exist.”

 

Thor opens his mouth. “You are—”

 

At that moment, Sif rides up and very purposefully sends her horse between them. Still unable to command this unfamiliar steed, Thor finds himself steered away from his brother, and he cannot fail to notice how naturally the whole movement happens, as if it's like this all the time. Even the horses aren't surprised.

 

“Is there to be a celebration when we return?” she asks Loki. She doesn't ask Thor, even though his horse trots right beside them. Not Thor, even though she interrupted his conversation.

 

“Of course,” Loki says, flawlessly imitating his brother, “after I meet with my father.”

 

Thor stares at them, and suddenly feels very alone. His friends, whose support he depends on, now admire his brother, and nothing he can do can spare their attention. Not while they think he is Loki.

 

Full of jesting and good spirits, The Warriors Three pass him next, and not one of them notices Thor's rapidly slowing pace. If he stops and refuses to keep going, he wonders whether one of them would see.

 

Unfortunately, one of them does. “Tired already, Loki?” Fandral calls to him. “Be careful not to fall behind. There are monstrous Bilgeschnipe in these woods!” The warriors surrounding him laugh and start recounting the tale Thor told them yesterday, and even though it's at Loki's expense, their teasing completely discourages Thor.

 

The entire ride back to the palace, Thor finally does what Loki always tells him to.

 

He starts to think.

 


	3. Strength, Honor, and Courage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor gives his brother too many chances.

Odin does not assign Thor's quest for the Einherjar.

 

Odin does spend a lot of time asking about Thor's journey and having Loki (or from his perspective, Thor) relay the turn of events. While Thor stands by in Loki's body, he feels the mood of the entire room, and it both presses down on him to stay silent yet dares him to speak with the same breath. Based on the situation in the morning and Loki's advice, Thor opts to just stay quiet.

 

It isn't easy.

 

Loki doesn't downplay anything Thor or his friends achieved in the battle, but he does spend a fair amount of time exaggerating his own role. Thor could have seen fit to explain Loki's achievements in a couple of sentences, perhaps even one. Loki stepped in to help his comrades so that they could continue fighting—what does it matter about the how?

 

Furthermore, Odin has not assigned Thor's final quest, and betrayal twists in Thor's gut. Loki had insisted the truth to the sorceress's promise, and Loki had said that if he was wrong, then Thor would have every right to tell Odin the truth and get Loki in the trouble he deserves.

 

Instead, Thor must settle for standing and glaring at Loki, his mood darkening further each time Loki mentions himself in the tide of battle. If anyone notices Thor's foul mood, no one seems to care, and this angers Thor further. Why does it feel as if no one _notices_ him?

 

Odin does approve of celebration for the night, and then the court is dismissed. No quest for Thor to prove his valor, no chance for Thor to speak, nothing. His fists tremble uncontrollably, and he starts for the steps to the throne.

 

Then, Loki grabs his shoulder forcefully and redirects him to head out the room.

 

This becomes a trigger point because Loki _promised_ he could tell Odin the truth and now Loki cowardly tries to stop him. Thor has had it, and he opens his mouth to bellow out his rage and the _truth._ One glare from Loki silences him. Not the glare itself exactly—it's the anxiety behind it that convinces Thor that his rage can wait about five more seconds.

 

The second the throne room doors click shut and the two brothers walk far enough from the hall, Thor shoves Loki into a wall. It only works because Loki lets him. “He didn't assign the Einherjar Quest!”Thor yells.

 

Loki grimaces. “I know—”

 

“The sorceress lied to you! Twice now!” Thor rages, and this time, he is grateful his voice makes less noise because this is a private and humiliating conversation. “She tricked you, and you fell for it, not once, but twice!”

 

“I _know_!” Loki roars.

 

The silence following his outburst unsettles Thor. He never really realized that those vocal cords could be so loud, nor considered how much of an impact they had on his little brother's ears. Everything seems louder and more intense to his senses in this body, and his brother looms like a giant tempest of sensory imagery.

 

Loki takes a shivering breath. “I don't know why she lied. I just—she must have been a thief, not a sorceress. Yes, she must have stolen the Norn Stone and heard about my request, and . . .”

 

Loki dissolves into a conversation with himself where he tries to piece together what happened. Thor isn't interested. His brother owes him a promise. “You told me,” he cuts in, “that we could tell Father. I grow tired of listening to you gloat about your glory while everyone thinks you're me. I will not have this anymore.”

 

Eyelashes flutter as Loki hears what Thor says. “Gloat about my—what? You honestly think I was _gloating_ ? If anything, I told a story that _underplayed_ my role in the battle! I had to, if anyone were to believe I was _you_.”

 

“You did nothing as important as you claimed,” Thor says.

 

“Oh! So I suppose healing your very ribs didn't save you of injury to your lungs?” Loki snaps back. “You seriously believe you could have just leapt back up without a problem and killed the beast? Without being able to breathe?”

 

This gives Thor pause. Eventually, he shrugs, still angry. “No true warrior requires healing in the middle of battle. I would have figured something out.”

 

Loki's hands shove Thor's away, and he rakes them through his hair after taking several paces away. “I cannot _stand_ you,” he murmurs.

 

Normally they would brush aside such a comment and not dwell upon the drama, but Thor's rage resurfaces, and his feet close the distance between them to get in his face.

 

“You won't have to stand me much longer,” he seethes. “You will come with me to tell Father, and I am positive you will be confined to your room after delving in magic of the Norns _and_ deceiving me—and everybody. Come with me to defend yourself, or I will tell him alone.”

 

Loki looks down at Thor. “I . . . Thor, please, listen to me.” And there it is again—he licks his lips, preparing some subtle manipulation. Thor will not be tricked twice.

 

“No, I will not listen to you! You made a mistake, and I am suffering for it! You made me look a fool all morning, and treated me disrespectfully in the throne room as well!” Thor stops and searches Loki for what will hurt the most, anything to get back at his brother for humiliating him. “I'm starting to wonder if you are _enjoying_ yourself in my body! Are you really that jealous of me that you would cling so tightly to this deception? Do you really want to be me that badly?”

 

Loki's face crumples before his eyes. “Well, I'm _sorry_!” he screeches.

 

Thor's open mouth snaps shut, and he actually feels rather guilty.

 

Loki leans back, and breathes—heavy and ragged—and the whole thing looks completely wrong because it's Thor's body. “I'm sorry,” Loki continues quickly, “I'm sorry for being tricked—God of Trickery being tricked, made a complete mockery out of! I'm sorry that for _once in your life_ , you have to be _me_ , and I'm sorry for following your example and turning a blind eye!”

 

The guilt starts to tug his heart. “Loki—”

 

Loki springs from the wall and glares at him. His finger strikes towards Thor's face, and his hands sweep in cutting gestures. “How lucky you are—you can go whine to Father, and just fix everything with a snap of his fingers. I don't have that option, Thor! You feel humiliated for a day? Then I feel humiliated all the time! I'm sorry that I'm actually enjoying myself for once in my life and that you're not!”

 

Thor waits until Loki's breathing calms down somewhat. Luckily the corridor remains empty, and no servants or guards make their way down the dark, shadowy hall. The entire palace currently prepares for the celebrations, while Thor prepares to tattle. A sour patch forms at his throat, and Thor thinks for a few seconds.

 

Maybe Loki has a point—he has seen the outright prejudice with his own eyes today, after all. But Thor also remembers Loki's trickery and lies over the years, and knows Loki is not really the victim all the time. Not to mention—this situation isn't right. Just because his brother finds extreme happiness with the switched circumstances doesn't make it fair for Thor to stay as he is. Loki's self-assurance is being built on a lie right now, and that's wrong.

 

“We need to reverse the spell,” Thor finally says to make sure Loki understands.

 

Loki stares at him for several seconds before nodding. “I know.” His voice has dropped considerably. He won't meet Thor's eyes.

 

Thor runs a hand through his hair, but retains the wisdom to keep it in Loki's preferred style. He faces away from Loki to the wall. “We should ask Father what to do,” he suggests.

 

He hears a gap in Loki's breathing. “Thor, please . . .”

 

“I will take blame for it,” Thor says, but it doesn't reassure Loki the way he wants it to.

 

If anything, Loki appears more panicked. “No, he will still be angry with me. You don't understand. Taking the blame makes you look noble and me look cowardly. It's clearly my fault, and Father will see that no matter what is said.”

 

“Then what do you suggest?” Thor glances over his shoulder at Loki. “We can't keep hiding like this, Loki. It's not right.”

 

“I know.” His strokes his lips in thought. “I—I need time. Something like this must have happened before, and if you give me a few hours, then surely my research will yield something.”

 

“There's a celebration tonight. I expect to be in my own body before then. Do you think you can do that?”

 

The torchlight dances over his brother's face while he considers the question. Considering Thor receives nothing for this in return and Loki is completely at his mercy, Thor thinks a few hours will be more than lenient. If Loki doubts his success, he still doesn't have much of an option but to try.

 

Eventually a small nod answers his question. “I will find an answer before the feast,” he says.

 

“And if you don't?”

 

Loki lowers his hand from his mouth. “Then I will tell Father myself.” 

* * *

The time before the feast comes and goes, and Loki doesn't come to him with a solution. With heavy feet, Thor heads to the celebration while accepting that he won't be in his own body for the fun. Not to mention, Odin will probably be angry with him for keeping quiet so long.

 

Experience has taught Thor that trusting Loki can unpredictably be a good or bad idea. He made the choice to trust his brother, and Loki failed. As angry as he is, Thor knows it is his duty to face the consequences for his actions, and tell his father.

 

Still, Loki's words haunt him. _I feel humiliated all the time._ The guards he passes don't smile as they tilt their heads in acknowledgment, and the servants don't eagerly tend to him with the same enthusiasm. The palace always feels exceptionally hot, and the golden hallways taunt him with their empty warmth. It's incredibly lonely—to imagine things like this all the time.

 

But Thor already knows Loki made it this way by preferring the peace and solitude as he does. This world is Loki's world, and eventually Loki will grow tired of company, as brief a pleasure it may be to him now.

 

That is why Thor's steps don't falter as he makes his way to the head table where his father sits. His mother's warm smile greets him, and he returns a huge smile instinctively, immediately regretting it. Even though he's turning Loki in, he wants to keep this situation known to as few people as possible. It's the least he can do for Loki. He nods to his mother, more in character, and approaches the table.

 

Odin currently socializes with a third, less familiar woman at the table, and after he gets closer, he recognizes Queen Karnilla of the Norns. The woman rarely visits Asgard, so Thor finds himself a little curious as to her presence tonight.

 

But he pushes concerns aside as he comes to a stop.

 

“Loki,” Odin greets, and a cool, calculating gaze settles on his shoulders.

 

“Father,” Thor replies, “there is something I need to tell you.” His heart aches, but he knows this is right.

 

A brief hint of knowing flashes through his father's eyes, and he and Queen Karnilla share a glance. After a moment, Odin lifts his gaze to Loki again. “After the celebration, I will make time for you.”

 

Thor frowns. “Father, it is a rather urg—”

 

“Where is your brother?” Odin cuts in. “I have something to announce that requires both of your presences.”

 

“He's—” Thor pauses. Loki probably is either hiding or desperately searching for a solution in the library. Neither possibility he wants to say in front of Queen Karnilla or his mother for Loki's sake. “Father, may I not speak with you first?”

 

Odin shakes his head. “Not now. Find your brother and bring him here.”

 

The dismissive hand Odin waves nearly lights the fuse of Thor's temper. The only restraint is that Loki's mood is normally calm and somber—his brother would not make a scene, and Thor sympathizes with him enough that he still wants to keep this private. Other than that, no other arguments present themselves to Thor. He cannot twist words the way Loki can, and so all he can do is go find Loki.

 

He swallows building resentment (resentment more on Loki's behalf than his), and nods. “Very well, Father,” he says as calmly as possible and leaves to find Loki.

 

On his way out, he finds Loki coming in.

 

“Ah, I was looking for you,” Loki whispers with a worried glance towards the head table. “Did you tell him already?”

 

Thor bites down on his lip. “No. You said that you would.” He is lying by omission (he would have told Odin if he had the chance), but for some reason, Loki doesn't notice. The give-away signs must be less clear on Thor's current face, or at least, less recognizable for the moment.

 

Loki breathes in a sigh. “Good. I think I found a way to solve the problem.”

 

“That's wonderful! I knew you could do it.” Thor really did not like having to rat Loki out. “Then let us try it.” He pauses when Loki doesn't share his enthusiasm—Loki looks rather anxious actually. “What is it?” he asks.

 

“We . . . I would need to go somewhere to concentrate, and it will take time. We will have to wait until after the celebration to try it,” Loki says quietly.

 

Thor gives Loki a hard look, but nothing reveals any sign of a lie or a trick. But Loki already promised to find a solution _before_ the feast, and not only did he show up late late, but now they will have to wait until later. However, Thor notes that Loki still appears uncertain—as if Thor will outright reject his proposal. This accountability Loki shows for his actions persuades Thor to give him another chance.

 

“All right,” Thor agrees, and Loki visibly relaxes. “Father wanted to see you. Try not to embarrass me.”

 

Loki's lips quirk a little. “Try not to lose your temper.”

 

Thor's lands a fist on Loki's chest affectionately, but Loki doesn't stumble back as he usually does. It just reminds them both how deep their deception runs and how soon they need to reverse the enchantment.

 

Checking to make sure no one is looking, Thor reaches up to clasp his brother's neck and gives him a firm squeeze. He won't forgive Loki yet, but he will at least put him at ease. “It will be fine, Brother. I will wait, I promise.”

 

Loki nods, and they both go back to the head table. During the few minutes, Thor scans the room for his friends, Sif and the Warriors Three. Despite the irritating morning, Thor convinces himself that he imagined the whole thing. Sif asked him if he was troubled, and surely, she meant well. He will have to apologize to them so that when Loki and he regain control of their respective bodies, Loki won't meet any further jibes or insults.

 

He catches them in a group bursting live with stories of their victory. Sif sees them, but when her eyes land only on Loki, a sickening feeling in his gut tells Thor that nothing had been imagined.

 

“Who is the All-Father speaking with?” Loki suddenly asks.

 

Thor's eyes snap back to his father, and sees him engaged in conversation with both his mother and Karnilla. “The Queen of Nornheim.”

 

“Why is she here? What do they discuss?”

 

Thor rolls his eyes, and bites back an irritated response. He hates it when Loki asks questions he doesn't have the answer to because usually his lack of response rewards him with criticism. “I don't know. I just arrived.” Suddenly a piece of information clicks into place in his mind. “Oh, we could ask her about the Norn Stone!” Thor realizes.

 

This time, it is Loki, who fixes his eyes on the ceiling. “As remarkable as your thought process is today, I would recommend keeping your mouth shut,” he says. “I need the Norn Stone to reverse the enchantment, and if a thieve is the one who gave it to me, she might demand it back, and then where will we be?”

 

With a huff, Thor admits truth to Loki's words, and they make the rest of the journey in silence.

 

Their parents' gazes rise when the brothers reach the table, and Queen Karnilla smiles at both of them. “Greetings, young Princes,” she says. It's the first time Thor has heard her speak, but Loki's eyes narrow curiously in recognition.

 

“Greetings, Queen of Norns,” Loki says respectfully and then turns to Odin. “Did you ask for me, Father?”

 

Unused to the sidelines, Thor fidgets next to him.

 

“Yes, I did. Now that both of you are here, I can make an announcement.” Odin stands and Gugnir's quick strike to the ground resonates throughout the large celebratory hall. Chatter dies down, and Thor's friends rise and watch with curiosity. Loki and Thor share a glance to be sure nothing has changed between them.

 

Queen Frigga and Queen Karnilla stay seated but watch with vastly similar expressions of contentment—Frigga's born of pride and Karnilla's of hope. Thor turns back to his father to hear what there could be to look forward to.

 

“As many of you know, my son Thor Odinson has trained for many long years,” Odin tells the Asgardians of the room. “Over those years, he frequently visits the other realms of the Great Tree to help civilians, to slay marauders, to show the universe the valor of a true Asgardian, and a true son of Odin.”

 

Thor notes that every single person's eyes in this room are fixed on Loki—whom they view as Thor. Does Loki feel the sting of negligence all the time? Thor steers his mind away from those thoughts with some difficulty until he meets the eyes of his mother. Unlike everyone else, she stares at him. He wonders if this is why Loki is so close to her.

 

“Today,” Odin continues, “my son returns from one such quest, and as his father, I decree that he displayed three values to their utmost: strength, in the way of battle with the mighty hammer Mjolnir; courage, in the way of persevering in the face of great danger; and honor, in his account of the story that attributes the aid of his fellow comrades.”

 

Thor swallows. Heat surges through his chest, but the minor detail cools his pride somewhat—Thor rarely attributes any details to his companions' aid, as Loki so thoroughly pointed out earlier. He expects them to do that themselves. Loki's eyes flicker towards him, but Thor feels his face heating up (so easily) and avoids looking at his brother.

 

“Thus, it is my decision to assign his final quest of the Einherjar, and reward his years of training with the chance to join the most esteemed warriors of the Realm Eternal.”

 

The entire room claps and cheers, but Thor cannot hear any of it. Loki was right! His final quest lies right ahead. Momentary panic stutters his heart—how will he keep this chance once his father learns of the spell—but the elation deafens any panic. His brother already promised a solution, and he will be back in his body come morning. Then, he will finally achieve one of the childhood dreams he prized.

 

He will finally be able to join the Einherjar!

 

Beside him, Loki's jaw locks up and it makes him appear far less eager than he should be. Thor nudges him with an elbow, and gives him a big grin (a grin that has not been seen on this face for sometime), and Loki blinks and finally smiles back.

 

He nods to the crowd and lifts an arm to raise the volume of cheering. It looks awkward, but Thor doubts any among the crowd will call the hoax anything but a bit of stage fright.

 

For once, the All-Father allows the murmurs to die down without using Gungir's base. Thor appreciates the gesture, and only wishes he could be in his own body to cherish this moment.

 

“Thor Odinson,” Odin says as he turns to Loki. “Tomorrow, you will go to Vanaheim, where a boat will take you to the northern regions of the realm. There, a dragon has plagued the kingdoms of Vanaheim for several years. I assign this responsibility to you as your final quest. You will slay the dragon and put an end to its plague upon the Vanir.

 

“As all Einherjar candidates, you must embark on this quest alone and unaided for all but one exception. You have the right to choose one companion to accompany you on this test of valor.”

 

Thor glances over at his friends and sees Sif, who stares equally entranced at his brother. She wants to be chosen as that one companion to accompany him, and as her best friend, it's the least he can do. The gender discrimination will cease when she aids the Crown Prince of Asgard in his final quest for the Einherjar.

 

Thor looks back to Loki and waits for him to speak.

 

“I will choose one companion,” Loki says. His jaw clenches up again and he turns to survey the room as if making a decision. The entire moment is just for show—Thor has already told him who to pick.

 

Odin nods patiently. “Whom do you choose?”

 

Loki's throat works as he swallows once and without looking at Thor, he opens his mouth to answer. “For my final quest, I will choose a companion who has been at my side through every hardship and who keeps an eye for those who would exploit my vulnerabilities time and time again. I choose my brother, Loki Odinson.”

 

Thor blinks once.

 

 _I told you to choose Sif_ , he wants to say, but Loki's lie shocks him so coldly that he can't even speak.

 

Odin nods. “Very well. Tomorrow then, my two sons will embark on Thor's quest for Einherjar status. So be the fates that they will succeed.”

 

Gungir clangs against the ground, and then the feasting arises once again. Loki dives into conversation with their family before Thor can say one word, and across the room, Sif struggles to keep a calm face.

 

Thor's fists clench, and the chance to humiliate his brother tempts him to spill everything about the Norn Stone and the sorceress thief and his brother's deceipt. Yet he hardly says a word all through the feast. If he did, his brother would face the punishment he deserves, and Thor would still surely be allowed to still embark on his quest and choose another more deserving companion. Wouldn't he?

 

Thor tells himself he made Loki a promise to remain quiet for the rest of the night. He refuses to admit he doesn't speak out of cowardice.

 


	4. Subterfuge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor and Loki embark on the Quest of the Einherjar.

Thor finds his brother in the library after the celebrations. It had taken a few extra minutes to escape his parents' questions, and during that time, Loki slipped away before he could approach. Unreasonably, he still did not tell Odin the truth, and even Thor had noticed Odin's lack of demand in asking his questions. Perhaps it is different with Loki, but his father let him go far more easily than normal.

 

Now Loki sits in a chair and stares at the Great Tree Yggdrasil model that lies before him in a sparkling array of white and silver colors. Most people have already retired to their rooms for the night or continue in the merry-making, so nobody will see Loki here and think it odd that the older prince has found an interest in studying.

 

And it _would_ be odd for Thor to be seen studying. Thor much prefers action.

 

He strides up to Loki and plants his feet solidly, shoulder-width apart. The additional time of the feast and searching for Loki allowed Thor's rage to drain away to a more rational anger. As a result, he does not yell, he does not shout, but his voice still stays low and vicious.

 

“Did you actually have a solution in mind or were you just waiting to betray me?” Thor asks.

 

Loki doesn't look up when Thor speaks, although the tightness to his expression signals his acknowledgment of Thor's presence. “Clearly you believe there is a third scenario, else you would not be here.”

 

“Don't tempt me,” Thor growls. He has no qualms going to his father and explaining their situation—but he loves his brother enough to give him a chance to explain himself. And to be fair, Thor did already promise to wait.

 

This time, Loki meets Thor's gaze as he leans back in the chair. “I do have a potential solution, but it depends on a certain variable that I may have mistaken.”

 

“A variable?”

 

“A few hours ago, I believed the enchantment to be the work of a thief,” Loki explains. “A thief sorceress would have rudimentary skills at best. It would be an enchantment I can break—an illusion of our minds. I would be thinking from my body while under the illusion that I was in yours, and your body would believe it due to another similar spell. However, magic of the Norns is an entirely different thing. If the woman I met truly was a Norn, then the spell will have altered the state of things completely—”

 

Thor cannot keep up with the lengthy monologue his brother chants. All his life, his teachers have needed to accept that Thor learns with his hands and not his ears, but his brother never came to such an understanding. Loki probably likes being able to talk circles around his older brother and make him look a fool. “Get to the point, Loki,” he cuts in.

 

Loki sighs. “I do not know if this will work.”

 

“Well, do you have another plan if this does not work?”

 

“Yes.” Loki's mouth twists into a grimace, which suggests that Thor might not enjoy his other idea.

 

He can only hope for the best with this one. “Then I guess we can try it.”

 

“Good.” Loki's hands stretch forward and gesture to a chair directly across from himself. “Sit down.” 

 

Thor eyes the chairs suspiciously, but eventually he obeys. Staying so still confined to a small space lets all the stress of the situation build up in his mind. His feet beg to move, to pace. Loki stares at him as if deep in thought, and it takes Thor a long time to build the nerve to interrupt him. “What should I do?” he asks.

 

Loki stirs out of his contemplation. “I was trying to break the spell, but it isn't working. Your body's sense of magic is like a clogged drain. Give me your hands.”

 

Thor gives Loki his hands, and then Loki's face melts into the sweeping concentration that Thor associates with magic.

 

While watching the light of the room dance across Loki's face, Thor allows the possibility to finally sink in that they are stuck in these bodies forever. Up until this point, the possibility unsettled him too much for him to give it any credit. Now, after barely a day, the fear seeps in through the cracks.

 

His eyes roam to their joined hands, and his are small and pale in Loki's larger ones. He feels younger than Loki now, even though he really is older. He's a full two inches shorter, and he lacks the physical power he worked so hard to maintain. Grace and dexterity compensate for the lack of brute force, but Thor never invested much time in those things as he never needed them.

 

In a fight, would he be a burden?

 

Across from him, Loki sits in a nearly invincible body that has celebrated many victories and fought many foes. Thor can work again to get the body he desires, but something about this form's frame tells him that muscle does not develop as largely and easily as it does on Thor's. In order to be of any use to anyone now, he will have to learn a completely different method of fighting than most Asgardians use.

 

He finally starts to wonder—not how to escape from this body and back into his own—but how to accommodate this body's weaknesses. Is this what it is always like for Loki? If so, he regrets the teasing and jests more than ever—because though he meant no harm, teasing plants a seed of truth into a heavy heart.

 

A slowed breath catches Thor's attention, and Thor glances up at him. “Did it work?”

 

Loki snorts. “What do you think?”

 

Just because he begins to understand Loki's day-to-day life doesn't mean he has abandoned anger though. He will not make the same mistake Loki did and allow himself made a fool. “I thought I would give you the benefit of the doubt considering you have failed me  _three times_ today,” Thor says.

 

He pulls his hands away when Loki doesn't answer him. The chair makes him feel so small, so Thor stands and turns toward the door. “So will you come with me to speak to Odin, Brother, or will you stay here like a coward?” he asks.

 

Loki hesitates. “I will tell Odin the truth if you really think that will help.”

 

“What do you mean?” Thor asks wearily. He is tired of giving his little brother chances. Odin needs to know.

 

“I have studied sorcery for a long time, Thor. If _I_ cannot find a way to break it by tomorrow, do you really think Odin can?”

 

“He knows much more than you do,” Thor shoots back. “He has lived much longer, is much wiser.”

 

Loki stands and faces the door as if he intends to go and confess to Odin without a fight if Thor decides to. “Regardless, I already know how to end the enchantment, and I know it is likely the only way.”

 

“Why do you say that?”

 

“The Queen of the Norns visited tonight,” Loki says. “I recognized her voice. She is the one I met in the tavern who presented me with the Norn Stone.”

 

Thor chuckles in disbelief. The land of Nornheim isolates itself from Asgard without exception. Queen Karnilla visiting the King of the Nine Realms is a surprise—Queen Karnilla visiting the second prince of Asgard in a  _tavern_ is sheer madness. “You expect me to believe that?”

 

“I can hardly believe it myself,” Loki says. The nervous tension in his voice ensures his agreement on the subject. “Do you remember what she said to you after Father announced your quest?”

 

Thor thinks through the events of the night as a vague memory of Queen Karnilla addressing him nips at the corners of his mind. “Yes,” he recalls. “Yes, actually.” He brings a hand to his chin to rub at the bristled hair that doesn't exist on this face. “After she congratulated you, she turned to me and said,” he pauses, “what was it?”

 

“'A true test of valor requires a test strength as well as a test of character,'” Loki supplies. His eyes focus intently on Thor's face.

 

“Yes!” Thor agrees. His mind alights into action as it recalls the thoughts racing through his mind, numbed by rage at the time. “But why would she tell _me_ that if she thought I was you?” Then his mind clicks with what Loki just said and realizes that Queen Karnilla was the sorceress Loki met in the tavern. Therefore, she knows about their body swap and knows this Einherjar Quest is actually his. “Ah, I guess that is obvious.”

 

Loki smiles as if he waits for a child to comprehend a simple concept. “The point is more  _what_ she said, not why.”

 

“I don't understand.” Thor swallows. 

 

“Of course you don't. She is a creature of magic and wisdom, neither of which are your strong point,” Loki says.

 

Though the words don't attack him (they actually sound neutral, a matter of fact), Thor fights back the corresponding insults ringing in the back of his throat. Loki catches his expression and his own softens in sympathy.

 

“Let me explain,” Loki says gently. “Your test of strength is the quest itself. I believe she means that this enchantment will be a test of your character.”

 

The half-apology lessens his rising temper. “You have some sense to what you say,” Thor says, “but she's not Father, Loki. Father decides what a worthy quest is and what is not.”

 

Loki nods. “I actually believe that it was a warning. That should you tell Father the truth of the enchantment, you may be denied your trial. Also, the night she gave me the Norn Stone, she adamantly told me that I must be the companion you chose for your quest. I believe that going on this quest together will reverse her enchantment. It seems to be what she wants.”

 

“Why did you not tell me this before the announcement?” Thor asks.

 

“Because I didn't know yet, Thor. Think a little.”

 

Thor glares. Lately all Thor can do is think. Whether to trust Loki, whether to tell Father; whether he really will succeed at his Einherjar Quest; or even whether he will be able to attempt his quest at all—it all twists together in a hopeless tangle, and it is Loki's fault for tampering in magic he didn't understand.

 

Loki's step forward decreases the distance between them and simultaneously eliminates many of their barriers. “I did not choose myself as your companion to steal your honor,” Loki says softly, “or because I am jealous of Sif. I chose myself because it was the only way you could still do your quest while we are stuck like this. I didn't want you to lose your chance by my mistake, Brother.”

 

Relaxed somewhat, Thor's gaze clamps onto his brother. He remembers the night before the enchantment, Loki asked to be the one to accompany him on the quest. At the time, he assumed his brother just wanted to share in his glory and Thor had been more than happy to allow this if it meant his brother could be at his side.

 

Even though now he knows of Queen Karnilla's advice to Loki, Thor still believes Loki wanted to be his companion on the quest for other reasons as well. When Thor changed his mind and decided Sif should be his companion, unspoken hurt had swept over Loki's face. He regrets his rash comment now, after everything that followed—and it eases his heart that Loki is willing to admit to the hurt his words caused.

 

“You're sure that embarking on this quest together, like she said, will reverse the enchantment?” Thor asks as a final precaution.

 

“Yes, it will—” But Loki has licked his lips again.

 

“Loki,” Thor cuts in before he can start another game, “you have stolen forgiveness from me more today than you have our entire lives. If I find you to be lying, I will be hard-pressed to trust you until the day of Ragnarok. I want you to be completely honest, right now.” He steps forward and places his smaller hands on top of his little brother's taller shoulders and looks him in the eye. “Will this work?” he asks.

 

Loki stares down at him for the longest time. Even though his height makes the gesture look awkward, Loki's shoulders visibly relax as time continues. “When she gave me the Norn Stone,” he says very slowly, “she told me that understanding requires determination and courage, from both of us, and a great deal of trust. I have so much more to lose than you do, Thor, so please. I am trusting you to trust me.”

 

Thor grins and shakes his head. “You ask much, and you still haven't answered my question.”

 

“I believe it will work,” Loki answers, and a hard look reveals total honesty. 

 

“And if it doesn't?”

 

An answering smile tugs the corners of his brother's lips. “Then as recompense,” Loki says, “you have my permission to break every bone in my body—and to tell Father, of course.”

 

No matter how angry Thor gets, nothing could make him do such a thing. The very idea of it actually horrifies him. “Loki, I'm serious.”

 

Loki smile stays but sobers a bit. “It will work, Thor. I swear it.”

 

Thor trusts him.

* * *

“ So, once we're within swimming distance, you will cause the storm,” Loki whispers under his breath in a corner on the dock of the boat. “I will be away from the hammer, so no one will suspect the storm to be anything but an accident. I will keep them talking and distracted after I give you the sign. Do you understand?”

 

Thor nods, though he doesn't like this plan. Vanaheim's oceans wreak havoc upon the shores of their land when the storms come. Balancing safety with the severity required to cause a diversion will be tricky and is not something to be taken lightly. But he already voiced these complaints to his brother, and Loki has no other ideas.

 

He looks around at the mix of Asgardians and Vanir and judges their ability to survive in a storm. The thought sickens him, but he thinks they will be okay. He finally turns to Loki. “I understand. What will be the sign?”

 

Loki tells him, but suddenly the boat rocks. Thor fights the sensitivity of this body that causes his stomach to clench and threatens to curl him over. When he manages to clear the nausea, he hears Loki laughing softly and patting him on the back.

 

“Well, this is interesting,” Loki says. “You and your friends always claimed seasickness to be a matter of the mind. You said I had only to imagine myself on land, yes? It seems you are proven wrong.”

 

“And for that, I am the utmost regretful,” Thor groans. He leans against the wall, as his stomach continues to churn in distress. Loki laughs a bit longer, before Thor asks again what the sign is.

 

“I will mention I see a storm approaching.” He eyes the clear blue sky above them. “Obviously no one else will notice the imagined clouds, so be quick to prove so with Mjolnir.”

 

Thor nods. “All right.”

 

“Is all well with you there, Prince Loki?” one of the Vanir boatman asks. 

 

“The sea causes him ailment,” Loki answers for Thor. “He will be fine.”

 

“Ah, that is dreadful! Allergy to the sea is rare among our people but not unheard of. You are lucky the journey will be swift and will take only the better part of the day, young Prince!” The sailor replies as he steers the boat.

 

Pride injured and tired of staying quiet, Thor opens his mouth to warn him to watch his words around a son of Odin, but Loki elbows him in the gut. He means to be gentle, but it hurts a lot. Thor grunts and rubs his chest, and Loki gives him an apologetic glance.

 

“Exactly how long until we reach the northern lands?” Loki asks.

 

The sailor squints into the distance. “By sunset, if all goes well.” He turns his head to look Loki once over. “Though if you use the Hammer and bring us some wind, it would go quicker, young Prince!”

 

Loki and Thor exchange a glance before turning to stare at the hammer left in the corner of the dock. An illusion would take too much magic to maintain for long, or at least that is what Loki claims within Thor's body. So Thor had to sneak it on board and Loki came up with several excuses as to why he does not hang it at his belt. The inability for anyone unworthy to pick it up reassures Thor, but he still hates leaving it there.

 

The boat rocks another wave of nausea over Thor, and before long, Loki whispers to Thor to go speed up the wind. Then Loki turns to the sailor. “I would be wary to bring storm upon your shores with any wind—though I am fairly certain that I cannot control the weather of this planet so easily,” Loki lies.

 

As Thor stumbles over to the hammer and pretends to sit and watch the waves rock the boat, he tries not to snipe at Loki. He still doesn't approve of any more lying than necessary. What if he returns to Vanaheim at some point in the future and suddenly _can_ control the weather? These people will ask questions.

 

He sighs and just wraps a hand around the hammer's hilt. It hums in recognition of his mind, and the vast pool of energy within her depths soothes his building irritation. Thor closes his eyes for a moment rather than summoning any wind and enjoys the feeling of power in his hand.

 

When he opens his eyes, the sailor and Loki still discuss many things—how the eastern kingdom fares as winter approaches, whether they will save enough food from their harvests to avoid the long journey to the sea, how much waste the dragon in the north laid to their crops. But Loki's eyes impatiently dart at him until Thor finally summons a gust of wind.

 

The sailor perks up. “What's this? It seems the wind is picking up! What fortune!”

 

The boat bustles with activity. The Asgardians accompanying them for the voyage watch as the Vanir sailors jump alive and man the sails to catch the wind. Waves rock the boat even further, and Thor finally vomits overboard.

 

Loki laughs, and Thor's cheeks flame in embarrassment.

 

“Sorry,” Loki says.

 

Thor brightens that Loki no longer is mocking Thor without guilt, but he feels an overwhelming sense of sympathy for his brother. How many times have they traveled by boat and Loki's seasickness caused him trouble? How many times have he and their friends laughed at him for such weakness? No wonder Loki delights in the change of bodies.

 

Thor spits and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “I take no offense,” he says to Loki. “Have I not laughed enough times at you to deserve a bit of embarrassment myself?”

 

The remains of Loki's smile wither and his jaw clenches. Resentment does not quite cloud his eyes, but Thor can see enough of pain instead. Thor decides when all this is over, he will make a bigger effort to not openly laugh at Loki's shortcomings. Most of the time.

 

The sun dips lower in the sky with each passing minute, and eventually Thor and Loki can make out land in the distance. Icy land as if they have reached the Jotunheim itself.

 

Thor already noticed the enhancement of color from Loki's eyes long ago, but now, the sight of the rainbow auroras dancing over the sheets of white still manages to stun him. It takes a long moment to tear his gaze away from the beautiful spectrum of color these eyes perceive. Thor looks at his brother, who frowns at the snow, as if wondering why the color suddenly looks so dull.

 

After a shared moment of silence, Loki turns to the sailor.

 

“I see a storm approaching,” Loki says and gestures in the distance.

 

While the sailor suppresses panic and squints into where Loki has pointed, Thor takes his cue and begins to summon the storm. As the wind picks up and clouds move to hover in the distance, the boat rocks more and more. Concentration eludes him as his nausea rises in his throat.

 

He tries to keep the storm contained to a point where it won't harm anyone, but the distraction of his stomach causes difficulty. Besides, restraint was never his strongest trait to begin with.

 

Loki stands in front of him to block everyone's view with the hammer. He eyes the coming storm warily and glances at Thor every so often.

 

Thor doesn't say anything. He focuses all his intents on subduing the power of this storm.

 

Lightning lights the sky, and thunder crackles. At this point, the Vanir passengers of the boat begin to panic. They rush here and to anchor the boat and prepare it for the unrelenting tides of a storm. On Asgard, subduing a storm poses little difficulty, but on Vanaheim, he finds it is easier to create the storm than calm one.

  
Vanaheim's sky clamps onto a storm like a magnetic force, and Thor can't claw away the metal. The storm rises and rises, despite his best attempts. He knows in his normal body, he would be able to do this much easier—but something about the way Loki's body senses magic makes it even more difficult.

 

“Thor,” Loki whispers urgently. “What are you doing?”

 

The lightning cracks across the sky, far too close. Thor shivers as rain pelts at his arms. He tells himself he is cold, but he doesn't feel cold in this body. “I'm trying to stop it,” he growls to Loki.

 

“Try harder.” Loki walks over to the sailors and begins helping them with the sails and the ropes. 

 

Thor's panic begins when he realizes the weather will not listen to him anymore.

 

The sailors call for Asgardians to prepare themselves. They know the weather well, and this storm will be giant. Thor finds himself looking around and deciding whether the majority will reach land once the storm submerges the boat. He decides most of them will make it.

 

When the first wave overflows the boat, Thor gives up his efforts.

 

Soaking wet, Loki returns to him, and whispers. “We need to start swimming before it's too late. The storm will drag us under at this rate.”

 

“What about them?” Thor asks and gestures to their companions.

 

Loki glances at all of them and shrugs. “This is our chance, Thor. If we stay, it will be everyone for himself anyway.”

 

Though he doesn't like this idea, Thor can't see any other option. The storm blew out of control, and he can't stop it now. All he can do is continue the plan and start swimming like mad to escape both their escorts and to escape the storm. Thor lifts the hammer and securely hangs it onto his belt.

 

Adrenaline pumps the queasiness out of his body, and Thor sees the stirrings of another giant wave as another bolt of lightning cracks in the sky. Beside him, Loki imitates his posture.

 

“Next wave,” Thor whispers to himself. Everyone around them is too occupied to notice that the two Odinsons are about to abandon them.

 

Loki nods. “I'm ready.”

 

The wave rises in the sea and envelopes the boat in seawater. “Now,” Thor says, and they both dive overboard. Anyone who notices will believe that the wave stole them from the very boat, and they will not be able to help them. Not when they will be fighting for their own lives.

 

The second Thor crashes into the water, he can tell how low the temperature has dropped. It doesn't affect him, but he knows in his own body, he would be freezing. He bursts to the surface and drags in a deep breath. “Loki!” he calls.

 

Loki appears beside him, and though his brother appears calm and collected, Thor can hear his teeth chatter uncontrollably. They need to reach land—but where?

 

“I can't see the shore,” Thor yells over the top of the storm. The waves garble half his words.

 

“That way,” Loki's voice booms like thunder. “I'll swim, you keep me in sight. The second you can't see me, shout. Don't waste time searching.”

 

Thor nods as best he can, and within seconds, both start swimming towards the shore that Thor can't see. In his older brother's body, Loki's strength will lie in the power of his strokes, the strength of his kicks. For Thor, weight will not hold him down, for though he can't stroke quite as strong, he can slip through the raging waves fast.

 

He keeps Loki in sight until a weight starts to slow him down. His muscles wearily tug at the water, and he doesn't understand why he is so tired all of the sudden. Though Loki's muscles have always lacked compared to Thor's in the past, Loki makes up for it in speed and agility. His younger brother has always been fit, and certainly not weak.

 

So why does each breath Thor takes shudder like a wheeze?

 

Loki disappears from his view. “Loki!” he shouts.

 

Immediately, Loki reappears, his expression tense and nervous. “What is it?” he yells.

 

“I—I can't. I'm getting tired,” Thor replies, and were it any warmer, heat would inflame his face. He never complains about weakness—never. He never needs to. 

 

Loki frowns. “Do you mock me? My body is more than capable of swimming to the shore,” Loki says.

 

Thor shakes his head. Staying above water is getting harder too, almost like an unbearable weight drags him down. Suddenly, a light turns on in his head, and Thor realizes what it is. “It's the hammer!” he says and tugs Mjolnir from his belt. He sputters water as the hammer continues to drag him down. “Your body—it's not used to carrying it. It's, it's heavy.”

 

Loki groans.

 

“Loki, I'm not insulting you!” It's getting hard to breathe _and_ talk while constant waves send him underwater. “It's just the truth. Mjolnir is heavy and your arms have never carried her before!”

 

Powerful strokes bring his brother over to him, and Loki hovers at his side, unable to lift Mjolnir but sure he should do something. “Can't you just drop the blasted thing and summon it to your hand once we make shore?”

 

“Do you have any idea how far it would sink before then?” Thor shouts back. He spits salty water through his teeth as thunder crackles in the distance. 

 

“So? A few extra minutes of waiting then! Surely the magic of the dwarves tampering with a very _star_ won't fade with a bit of distance.”

 

“I'd rather not find out!” Thor shouts. “I will not drop the hammer, Loki!”

 

“Then you'll drown!”

 

Thor wants to keep arguing, but his arms tire with every wave and his legs cannot keep pumping to keep him  _and_ Mjolnir above water. In front of him, Loki's teeth chatter and his body turns deathly pale as each second passes. They cannot stay in water much longer, but Thor does not want to risk losing Mjolnir. His father gifted it to him long ago, but Thor has not yet had time to test all of Mjolnir's aspects (even though Loki frequently suggests the urgency of knowing his own weapon). 

 

Thor's cheeks go bright red, despite the cold. “You should be strong enough to swim while carrying me.”

 

“What?”

 

“You can carry me, Loki. You've always been light on your feet, and I've always been able to carry you. I can't swim carrying Mjolnir, but you can swim helping me carry it.”

 

Blond locks plastered to Loki's pale face make him look absolutely miserable, but he manages to give Thor a half-smile. “You, the Mighty Thor, are asking  _me_ to help you swim to shore?”

 

Thor rolls his eyes. “Yes! I am sufficiently embarrassed already! Do not torment me!”

 

“Very well.” Loki cannot hold Mjolnir, but he lifts Thor's hand that holds it and drapes it over his own shoulders. Immediately after resting his arm, Thor feels like a great weight lifted from his body. His feet pump powerfully again to keep him above shore, and he gulps in the steady supply of air available as Loki adjusts to the weight of Mjolnir.

 

Before long, they are swimming together, and within several minutes of rain, salt, and thunder, they finally pull themselves to the shore of the northern lands of Vanaheim. Immediately on dry land, Thor turns to the sea and searches for the boat they came from.

 

Waves roll in the distance, but Thor sees no sign of the boat, nor any Vanir sailors or Asgardian escorts.

 

Loki stands shivering beside him. “I'm sure they're fine,” he says. “It will naturally be hard to see from here.”

 

Thor nods, but the lump in his throat disagrees.

 

* * *

“ Here,” Thor says, handing Loki the bowl of soup he concocted.

 

Loki scrunches up his nose and eyes the bowl. “Your cooking is horrible. It even smells disgusting.”

 

Tired of waiting, Thor just sets the bowl down next to him. “Suit yourself.” He basically inhales his own soup, because even though it tastes rather worse than Loki's cooking would, the exhaustion of the day starves him for sustenance. He cannot understand why Loki eats so little on their quests. Where else does he get the energy?

 

Eventually Loki takes a few small sips from the soup when he starts shivering again. He sits, draped in his brother's cloak to warm him from the icy weather, while Thor sits in the snow by the campfire as if melting on a hot summer day. Thor prods the fire to keep his brother warm.

 

After a while, Loki's gaze on him remains unmoved, and Thor fidgets uncomfortably. “What is it?” he finally asks.

 

“I always thought,” Loki says, “that I have more of a tolerance to the cold because my mind triumphs over my body's needs. Apparently I was mistaken.”

 

Thor smiles. “Well, people do claim it is blood that runs cold, not your mind.”

 

A roll of the eyes answers Thor's comment, but Loki doesn't seem all that annoyed. More contemplative. “Truly though,” Loki continues. “Are we only what we are born? My seasickness, my insensitivity to the cold, all of it remains in my body while my mind travels to yours. What good are our minds, our experiences worth?”

 

“Why does it matter?”

 

Loki sighs. “How can it not? Would you still feel as proud of things you are already born with?”

 

Images dance hypnotically in the flame as Thor ponders Loki's question. He understands what Loki is saying. His brother has always prided himself on his aversity to the cold, and now that their situation is reversed, he probably feels as if that pride manifests from some lucky combination of traits of his parents genetics. Maybe Loki wants to stay in Thor's body and be proud of those traits instead. With that thought, Thor cannot hold his tongue any longer.

 

“I don't think we are stuck where we are born, Loki,” he says as he pokes the fire with the stick. “I've spent years building my strength and proving myself to Father. When he finally rewarded me with Mjolnir, it took a lot of training to hold it for great lengths of time.”

 

Loki smiles through a shiver. “So you think I could be like you if I simply push myself?”

 

The remark surprises Thor. “Well, of course,” he says. It's hard to imagine why Loki would ask such an obvious question because his brother is supposed to be the smart one that doesn't need to be explained things.

 

For some reason, Loki's smile sours. “You  _would_ think that.”

 

“Why do you say that? You don't eat enough, Brother, and you don't train with the others nearly as much as I do,” Thor explains. “Perhaps the library has upped your body's tolerance for temperature with how freezing that place is, but studying has done little to give you the strength an Asgardian warrior prizes.”

 

Loki straightens up, and glares. “It doesn't work that way, Thor. Whether I eat a lot, train or not, my body was not built to naturally hold muscle the way yours does. I have to use other tools to my advantage. That's why I am faster and more graceful than you, that's why my senses are more trained than yours—you compensate your lack of dexterity and observance with strength. It's how we were  _born_ .”

 

He cannot understand why Loki is trying to steal away Thor's pride in his prowess as a warrior. “I was not born with my power, Loki,” he hisses. “I had to work for it.”

 

“Yes,” Loki agrees, “just as I had to work for my strengths. But you were blessed with an easier time with certain—”

 

“It is _not_ easy,” Thor bites back, half-chuckling.

 

“Even if I worked twice as hard as you, I would never be _you_ , Thor. Why can't you understand that?”

 

“Because it's not true! You just don't try hard enough!”

 

Suddenly Loki dumps the contents of his soup on the fire. It flickers out with a sizzle, and then before Thor can yell, he hears the terrifying roar of a dragon echo deep within the bones of the mountain. “Is it—”

 

“Shh,” Loki hisses. He leaps to his feet and peaks down through a crevice in the cave. His broad shoulders block most of Thor's line of sight, so Thor gets up and creeps next to his brother. Inside, there appears to be a labyrinth of ledges that descend to the very base of the mountain. “It is close now,” Loki says. “You should have been paying more attention since you're the one with my ears right now.”

 

Thor glares, but he doesn't argue the comment. “Is it the dragon we are meant to slay?” he whispers.

 

Loki's eyes train on the shadows flickering far down below. “I believe so.”

 

“And it can hear us?”

 

“Yes. Smell us, too.” The shadow passes over the cavern as heavy footsteps of the dragon pass them by, and Loki steps back slightly. “It knows we're coming.”

 

Thor calls his hammer to his hand. “Are you warm now?”

 

“Warm enough.”

 

When Loki's face turns towards his, moonlight reveals a wicked grin that doesn't shock him as much on the borrowed face as it would have two days ago.

 

“This fight will be different than you're used to,” Loki says softly. “You may carry Mjolnir, but you will find your usual fighting style rather useless in my body, as I will find mine in yours. We will need to work together more than ever before. Do you trust me, Brother?”

 

Thor stares at Loki for a moment. He remembers yesterday morning he told Loki that he couldn't trust him to watch his back, but his tongue has always churned nonsense under a temper. He trusts his brother with his life and always will.

 

Loki sees the answer reflected in his brother's eyes before Thor even speaks, so instead, Thor decides to joke. “Not in this cold,” he teases, and Loki smiles a little.

 

They both step further into the cave to face their foe.

 


	5. The Sting of Courage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor learns how it feels to be small, and Loki learns what it means to be a hero.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Fight scene with high stakes (people get injured, people could die, etc, etc).

“Before you go barging in there, I think we need a plan,” Loki whispers. Even at its lowest volume, he hears his voice hiss and echo down the cave's crevices. It's not loud to Loki, but he can still see Thor subconsciously start at the noise. Loki bites down the urge to curse. How can a person's vocal cords be so out of control?

 

Thor glances up at him. Even their shadowed silhouettes don't eliminate the unsettling image of his own eyes staring back. Thor has adjusted rather quickly to their change in appearances, but to Loki, it feels too much like an invasion of privacy to get used to it easily. Self-consciously, he tucks a strand of his unusual blond hair behind his ear.

 

Thor still hasn't responded.

 

“Thor—”

 

“Shh,” Thor whispers. “It's moving by.”

 

Loki blinks, startled. He strains his ears, but hears no such thing, but Thor's face displays clear concentration. He trusts Thor's ears and stays perfectly still to not alert the beast, but he still feels the sting of disappointment. All these years of ridiculing Thor for being loud and obnoxious with no sense of stealth when truthfully, it is as simple as the fact that Thor just doesn't hear as well as Loki does.

 

Loki's false sense of pride in heightened senses has once again been stolen by his very body. Loki wonders if he is good at anything, or if it is all the product of how he was born. A smooth mask covers his face while he waits for Thor to speak.

 

“There, he's gone,” Thor says, lower than Loki has ever heard him speak—and he's not even _trying_. “What were you saying, Brother?”

 

Loki glances down at the crevice. “I think we should make a plan.”

 

“What kind of plan?”

 

Rolling his eyes, Loki pushes past Thor and climbs down a few steps. He peers into the cavern beyond where large talons have littered tracks on the rocky surface. It's getting hotter and hotter as they go farther down, but in this body, Loki will handle the heat fine. He is more worried about Thor when temperatures rise above a certain level.

 

He takes in the surroundings as best he can, but has to fight with his eyes to pay attention to the details. “Any kind of plan would be preferable, other than the two of us racing in, brandishing our weapons and praying to the Norns that we don't catch fire when the dragon breathes?”

 

Suddenly Thor settles down beside him, and the close proximity without any warning startles Loki slightly. He hides a gasp with a small cough. “Why not?” Thor asks. “That's how we usually go about it.”

 

“No, that's how _you_ usually go about it,” Loki says. 

 

Thor shrugs. “It works. Besides, your plans always resort to trickery and sneaking about. Father sent me on this quest to prove my strength, honor, and courage, and that requires a fair fight.”

 

Those very words coming in  _that_ voice irritate Loki beyond reason. “Yes, well, there's a reason I do what I do. Brute force is not exactly your strong point right now, Brother, or would you prefer another dump in the ocean to learn your lesson?”

 

Bright red flushes over Thor's cheeks, and it's hard to decide whether seeing his own face blush or seeing  _Thor_ blush looks more ridiculous. Before Thor can protest with his own argument, Loki sighs and sits down on the crag of rock behind him. Sometimes explaining things to his brother exhausts him, and seeing all his body's weaknesses revealed through Thor's incompetence doesn't help anything.

 

“Thor, humor me for a second. Can you use magic right now? Other than Mjolnir?”

 

Thor frowns and shakes his head. “Of course not. I would never.”

 

Loki swallows down both the resentment and the hurt that comment serves him. “Right. And how is Mjolnir? Do you think you can fight with your weapon as you usually do in that body?”

 

The light from the crevice dances in Thor's eyes as he considers Loki's question. A minute passes before Thor's sulking face moves back and forth to shake his head. “I mean no offense, Brother, but you're right. Mjolnir is much heavier for me right now. And it's different to use her full power in your body. I am unsure if I can rely on lightning and wind alone.”

 

Loki nods. “Well, I have the proper might to wield Mjolnir—”

 

“You can't though,” Thor says, confused.

 

“Yes,” Loki agrees with a smile, “I can't. And magic is one of my greatest assets in a battle, but unfortunately, your body has drastically lowered my scope of ability. I will lose energy faster than usual.”

 

“What is the point?”

 

“The point is that both of us are at our weakest. Neither of us can use the full power of Mjolnir, and neither of us command the full extent of my magic.” Loki stops and eyes Thor's still furrowed expression. “We cannot do this 'the usual way,'” he continues, getting more aggravated, “because neither of us are at are usual selves. Don't you see? We need some kind of plan.”

 

Finally, reason dawns on Thor, and he nods thoughtfully. “What kind of plan do you have in mind?”

 

Loki almost wants to laugh in relief that Thor finally asked the right question but also yell in frustration that this conversation took thrice as long as he originally planned. He shoves a hand to his forehead as the two instinctive emotions cancel each other out, and then breathes to calm the raging headache.

 

“Well, what do you know about dragons?” Loki asks. The library already taught him a great deal, but he wants to know Thor's extent of knowledge to know how to continue this conversation.

 

Thor pauses and glances at the crevice in the cave wall. “They breathe fire,” he says first, and then pauses again.

 

“Yes. What else?”

 

“They fly,” Thor adds.

 

“Please don't tell me that you came on this quest completely unprepared for what you would be facing,” Loki groans. 

 

Sharp green eyes dart towards Loki, and Thor kicks his boot warningly. “I wouldn't need to, had you reversed the spell as you said you would. I can face anything. It's your body that causes the—”  _problem_ . The word dries up before escaping Thor's throat, but it already did its damage.

 

Loki forces his eyes to relax and stay neutral—without stinging. He succeeds for the most part. “Yes, and I  _apologize_ .” Loki's voice lowers dangerously. “However, it was your responsibility to take this into account. I shouldn't have had to explain any of this to you. You're supposed to  _think_ .”

 

“That's your job!” Thor blurts out. They both blink in surprise, but Thor recovers more quickly. “Loki, that's why I bring you on my quests! Because you think of things that I don't. I'm tired of you blaming me for not thinking ahead, because that's where I rely on you. Now tell me about dragons and be done with it!”

 

Though his tone bites, the meaning behind what Thor says lifts a cold weight from Loki's shoulders, and a small, incomprehensible light warms Loki's chest. He swallows back the lump, now forming with relief rather than despair.

 

“Loki?” Thor asks when his brother stays silent, and Loki thanks the shadows for concealing the small smile shining on his face. He waves a hand at Thor's concerns and moves to the crevice again.

 

“Many mistake dragons for large, powerful creatures with hides of steel,” Loki says, “but in reality, dragons more resemble serpents. Large creatures are slower, but dragons strike as quickly as a snake. Their scales are tough, yes, but not invincible. Similar to the Bilgeschnipe, their weak spot lies protected at their throats. The spot will light up a moment before it breathes fire. You have to be exact.”

 

Thor nods. “Very well. Then I will land that strike. What else should I worry about?”

 

“The dragon has no desire to burn the flesh of what could be a meal and will only breathe fire when it is cornered. The major concern will be the tail. Worst case scenario will mean the spikes on the tail are drenched in poison that will paralyze or, worse, kill you—and it will hurt. This dragon may or may not carry poison, but I would rather not find out. Avoid the tail at all costs.”

 

Thor nods, but Loki presses his point by driving his palms into Thor's knees.

 

“I mean it for you especially, Thor. Even in the body you are accustomed to, you would be paralyzed or worse in under a minute. You do not want to risk this, do you understand?”

 

“Yes, yes, I understand.” Thor stands and forces Loki's hands away. His brows furrow in concentration again as if he listens for something. “So, avoid the tail, weaken it until we can force it to breathe its fire. Then strike under the throat. Got it.”

 

Loki smiles a bit and stands beside his brother. Fingers run over his daggers to ensure their availability, and then Loki draws the sword at his side. Normally, he would prefer something smaller and refined, like a dagger, but with Thor's bulk and strength, a more forward approach will work better. His training has taught him enough to get by.

 

“If we can damage its wings, we will have a better chance. This cavern's roof lies low, but it will still prove a bit of a problem when it takes to the air,” Loki says, still checking to make sure his brother hums in acknowledgment.

 

“Wings first then,” Thor says.

 

“Yes.” Loki draws upon the energy tingling at his fingertips, and tries to adjust to the unusual current as it flows into the reserves of his mind. Thor possesses a mediocre supply of energy where magic is concerned, but Loki doubts it will last long with his clumsier attempts to refine it in this body. “I will save enough magic to block its fire once but only once.”

 

Thor grins. “You should know already that I won't miss.” His grin fades. “I hear it.”

 

Loki stops breathing, but he still can't hear a thing. The dulled senses throw him off balance, as well as the surplus of strength building in his bones. Logically he understands that Thor's force compensates for the lack of sensitivity, but in his heart, it feels odd. As if Loki just isn't meant to fight the way Thor does—he fears that even with the body he has dreamed so long of having, he won't be able to do anything differently.

 

Beside him, Thor's breathing speeds, just enough for Loki to notice that he must be feeling the same thing. Finally, Loki can hear it. The dragon's breath huffs against the large cavern ahead, and Loki carefully lifts a hand and touches Thor's shoulder. “Thor, let us wait for it to pass again,” he whispers. “If we can plan a bit more to surprise it, we can end this more quickly and safely.”

 

Thor's eyes glow green in the dark. “This is my quest, and I will face it fairly.”

 

“Thor, please, I'm not sure—”

 

“No. Cower here all you want, I'm fighting it my way.” With that, Thor lunges forward through the crevice with a cry of battle. Immediately the dragon's neck cranes as it catches sight of Mjolnir brandished in the air.

 

Loki curses, and starts to follow, but he keeps a good distance from the distraction Thor provided in order to try to flank the dragon. The odd orange glow illuminating the cavern turns out to be a flow of lava shedding light through the walls. Dragons often inhabit volcanoes, but considering the winter weather of Northern Vanaheim surface, Loki believes that this volcano has not erupted in a long time.

 

Across the cavern, Thor dodges a snip from the dragon's teeth as it lunges for him. Thor moves more quickly than he expects, and somersaults to his feet nearly straight into the claws of the dragon's hand. Blood spurts from a gash at his shoulder, and he staggers several feet back to recover.

 

Loki curses again. As much as Thor listened, Thor truly only learns through his own actions.

 

The dragon still does not notice Loki as he edges around the cave towards its tail. If he can injure the dragon here, then the tail will be less of a danger later on. But Loki misjudges the sound of his own footfalls, and as he accidentally kicks a shadowed rock from underneath his feet, the dragon roars and flings its tail forward.

 

Again, Loki finds himself off balance because his feet don't lunge with the speed he expects. He dodges the spikes on the tail, eyes catching a glimpse of wetness on their edges, but the rest of the tail slams into him and sends him flying freely across the room.

 

“Loki!” Thor shouts right before his back hits the wall.

 

His breath shoots out of his lungs at the impact, but surprisingly, he feels pretty good. There's blood in the back of his mouth and bruises pounding all over his body, but his vision isn't swimming and he can stand up on his feet without any trouble at all.

 

It's so different from having to avoiding every single hit while knowing if even one lands, he'll be out for the entire battle.

 

Honestly, Loki has no idea which he prefers—this invulnerability or the careful stealth of his senses.

 

“Loki! Are you okay?” Thor yells as he catches his hammer from its strike at one of the dragon's wings. The dragon roars in rage, and Loki sees the huge palm of its hand lifting to bat at Thor's body.

 

Loki jumps back into the battle. “Watch out!”

 

Thor turns his head and instantly rolls away from the blow. The palm smashes into the ground where he stood, and then the dragon shoots forward with its fangs to cut into Thor's head. Thor lifts Mjolnir to block, but close enough now, Loki shoves him out of the way and blocks the attack himself.

 

Fangs clatter against the blade of his sword, and with one hand, he sends knives towards the dragon's eyes. Too slowly. The dragon ducks its head and the knives whiz by and clatter against the spikes on its back uselessly.

 

Thor jumps to his feet. “What are you—”

 

“You can't fight like that, Thor!” Loki yells. “You dodge better than you block right now!”

 

Thor hears the whiz of the tail before he does, because Loki sees Thor's eyes widen in terror. “Loki—”

 

This time, Loki suppresses his gut instinct with a huge sense of difficulty, and turns to face the tail head on. The spikes collide with the sword with a clang, his feet slip back a few yards, but it gives him the time to duck under the swing and come out the other side  _without_ colliding into a wall.

 

He whirls around and sees Thor ducked as well.

 

For the next minute, Thor wields the hammer and lightning against the wings as well as he can, but it's dark and their strikes miss more often than they hit. Loki draws on his reserves and lights an orb to give them more vision. The energy drains at the unfamiliar spell, and Loki endeavors to constantly check to make sure he will be able to block the dragon fire once they need to.

 

By the time the first wing has even shown a hint of injury, sweat and bruises cover their entire bodies, Thor's arms shake with the effort of holding Mjolnir, and the dragon's wings remain generally untouched. For the third time, the dragon takes to the sky of the cavern and circles around them, preparing for another flurry of attacks. Thor doesn't dare throw the hammer like he did the first time—when he caught it then, the force of Mjolnir nearly threw him to the ground.

 

Loki spits on the floor and wipes the sweat off his brow. “Thor! Where are you aiming?”

 

“The wings!” Thor barks back. “Just like you told me to!”

 

“Then why—” 

 

“I can't hid hard enough like this,” Thor admits.

 

The dragon screeches and barrels towards them. It's talons scrape the ground, and Thor lunges out of the way before Loki can. The edge of a claw scrapes Loki's thigh, and though the adrenaline pumping through his veins diminishes the pain, he still knows it will need care immediately.

 

He tears a piece off his cape and ties it around the wound while the dragon circles in the air again.

 

They both draw in sharp breaths while the dragon roars to cool his lungs, and if Loki feels hot now, he can only imagine how Thor feels. Loki's body can easily tolerate cold, but the heat gnaws at his body's reserves of strength, makes him delirious. It's no wonder Thor can't hit the wings hard enough—not only does he have to go against an entire life of fighting a certain way, the temperature of the cave is also surely weighing down on him.

 

In the past, Loki would always be the one to strike at the dragon from behind. To sneak around and cast injuries to places that were weak, that would weaken the beast so that the others could take it down. Thor does not condone that kind of fighting, and while he struggles to use his newfound speed to his advantage, Thor does not use the strategies Loki has perfected his entire life. Meanwhile, Loki tries to distract the beast as he is used to with less powerful but more irritating attacks in order to give Thor the windows he needs to weaken the dragon.

 

It's not working.

 

Thor cannot deal the same damage with Mjolnir as he can in his own body, and Loki's strength right now would be better spent damaging than just distracting. He takes a deep breath—because the fear that Thor will reject this idea gnaws at his heart. If Thor rejects this now, then how will Loki ever fight the exact same way at his side ever again?

 

But they need to do something. “Thor?” he says, voice much quieter.

 

But Thor hears him well enough. “What is it?”

 

The dragon roars again as it circles about. Loki swallows. “I need you to give up on the wings.”

 

“What? But how else will we—”

 

“I'll handle the wings. You need to distract the dragon. Like I would usually do.”

 

Thor frowns, and Loki prepares for the inevitable rejection—when Thor will claim such methods cowardly and refuse to cooperate, even though Thor has relied on Loki's talents time and time again in the past. Instead, Thor says, “Can you give me your knives?”

 

Stunned, Loki turns his full attention on Thor. “What?”

 

Thor tosses Mjolnir a few meters away. “I need to save my strength for its weak point. Don't jest, Loki, I'm embarrassed enough.”

 

Right now, Loki holds a lot of power. His mind calculates the several dozen options of what he could say, what he could do, how it would affect Thor.

 

He could refuse—he could laugh and tell his brother to pick up Mjolnir and fight like a man. He could smile patronizingly and hand over his daggers, but with a subtle remark at how Thor cannot even lift his favorite weapon. He could pretend to be accepting while throwing casual remarks about how boring such a tale will be when Thor's companion completes more of the Einherjar quest than the actual Einherjar candidate himself.

 

Each of these remarks would be so easy. Perhaps even accidental if he chose not to think on it so hard. If confronted later, he even has the suitable excuse that it's because Thor treats him this way on a regular basis, without even thinking.

 

As the opportunities flash before his eyes, Loki starts to understand what Queen Karnilla wants him to learn.

 

He cannot expect others to do everything for him. Loki can only be responsible for how  _he_ behaves.

 

In an act of total trust, Loki tears several knives from their places and throws them to Thor, just as the dragon dives headlong towards them. Their positions reversed, Loki focuses his attention on the wings. Thor throws a knife to distract the dragon, and though his aim lacks in comparison to Loki's, it does its work.

 

The dragon tilts just enough for Loki to lift the sword right at the delicate skin holding the dragon's wings together. The force of the dive cuts the wing nearly clean in half.

 

A nasty roar echoes through the caverns. The dragon flies up to avoid further damage to the wing, but the flight fails as air pours through the open wound. The dragon is grounded.

 

Thor and Loki mirror each other's movements. In the beginning, it feels awkward, as if they're on the wrong side of the mirror, but eventually they adapt to each other. Loki trusts his brother with his life, just as Thor trusts him. The tail flips towards Thor so quickly that when he dodges, Loki uses its own force to plunge the sword into its hide.

 

The dragon screams, and the tail whips away. Loki fights to hold onto the sword, still lodged within the steel scales, but past instinct makes him release it when his feet lift from the ground.

 

Weaponless, he sees the dragon draw in the breath that leaves icy cold air in its place. Eyes dart over to Thor who is too far away from its throat to do the damage necessary in time. “Thor, dodge!” Loki yells as he himself jumps to the side.

 

The fire flares out, and Loki's eyes bulge looking for his brother.

 

Thor meets his gaze on the other side and nods as Mjolnir flies into his hand.  _Next time_ , he says without speaking. 

 

Loki jumps to his feet and steps cautiously over to meet his brother. He will need to direct the fire upward, out of Thor's way, so that when Thor strikes, he will not be enveloped in the flames that pour out. His dwindles the magical orb of light because Thor will be able to see the weak point better in darkness.

 

The dragon growls. Its neck snakes along with golden yellow eyes studying its opponents, now realizing that they present a larger threat than originally presumed. With any luck, the battle will be over in the next minute.

 

All three's breaths heave with effort—they are all tired.

 

Loki hears the hitch of breath that signals an oncoming fire, but a second later, he hears the whiz of the tail.

 

“Thor, stop!” 

 

But Thor has already moved forward with Mjolnir brandished in his hands towards a weak point that he hasn't realized won't appear. The tail swings around, and Loki can only stand there and watch as the spikes and Thor's body connect in one horrifying moment that slows for centuries—then both the spikes and Thor's body disappear from sight in an instant that lasts less than a fraction of a second.

 

Loki's gaze hurries to catch up, but then the dragon actually starts the breath of fire.

 

Loki rolls to the side and sees his sword still embedded in the dragon's tail. He tears it from the tight scales and hears the dragon scream again in agony. The tail drops, and Loki manages to spot where the end of it is.

 

Thor is pinned against the wall by one of the spikes sinking deep into his stomach. Something drips from the spikes—black and thick—and Loki remembers seeing it up close the first time he got swung into a wall.

 

It's poison.

 

The dragon rips its tale away, and Loki ducks. His vision clouds up as Thor, moaning, falls uselessly to the ground, beside his fallen hammer. “Thor!” Loki screams. He can't get to Thor fast enough. Despite the new power to his stride and the strength in his legs, Loki  _can't move fast enough_ . Thor doesn't even answer.

 

Mjolnir rests at his side near the blood-splattered floor. Loki drops to his knees, and tries to push Thor over onto his back, but a whimper tears the heart out of Loki's shove.

 

“Thor—Thor, can you—can you hear—”

 

The dragon hitches its breath, and Loki isn't prepared.

 

The oncoming fire lights up the weak point at its neck, and Loki believes they are both going to die.

 

Then Thor pushes himself up and his other hand shoots forward with the knives he borrowed from Loki. The dragon chokes, and Loki realizes that even pinned to the wall with a three-foot, poisoned spike imbedded in his shoulder, even with Mjolnir discarded to the side while he choked in a puddle of blood on the floor, even now with the determination glinting in Thor's green eyes, Thor had  _never_ stopped waiting.

 

He is Thor, even now, whether in his body or in Loki's body, and Thor never loses his drive. Thor never gives up.

 

The sheer force of will in his brother's eyes gives Loki the courage he needs to keep fighting. He summons his magic and directs the oncoming blast of fire upward, and though the knife hasn't killed the dragon, it certainly has marked the spot.

 

Sword in hand, Loki launches forward with a roar and speed granted in the lust of battle. He drives the blade of the sword through the dragon's throat and out the other side.

 

The dragon puffs one last smoky breath before the light leaves its eyes.

* * *

Thor pants for breath when Loki returns to his side. Up until this moment, Loki has been pushing his brother away because he hates seeing his weaknesses so clearly revealed. But now, he understands why Thor adjusted to their change in appearances so easily, because right now, Thor is Thor, his older brother that he loves unconditionally and nothing else.

 

“Loki, did—did I get the—the dragon? Did I kill it?” Thor says. He dissolves into a flurry of coughs immediately after, and Loki presses for him to stay quiet.

 

“Yes,” he lies once the hacking coughs subside, “yes, you killed it.” His throat burns with pride, but this is Thor's quest, and poison spreads through Thor's veins. The wound runs too deep to suck the venom out, and if Loki does anything but rip off shreds of his cape and put pressure to the wound, Thor will bleed out and die.

 

He doesn't want Thor to—to—to pass out thinking Loki stole his glory. Thor won't die, he is not afraid of that. Loki is not afraid at all. And he will  _not_ cry.

 

The pride glows on Thor's face, even though the cavern is so dark. “G-Good—I'm glad—you're safe.” Thor coughs out blood. “You fought w-well, B-Brother, I am proud of—of—”

 

“Thor, stop.” He chokes on a cough (not a sob) that rises in his throat from the smoke of the flames. “Stop talking, all right? You—you need your strength.”

 

Thor's body (Loki's body) shudders with agony, but overtime, the shudders die down as his skin cools. Its the venom paralyzing his brother that's making him cold. He tells himself that because he doesn't want to consider any other alternative. A part of him wonders if this is how Thor felt years ago, in their childhood, when the Bilgeschnipe struck Loki down.

 

If that is why Thor never tells any story but his own accomplishment that night, Loki can no longer blame him. Loki never wants to remember this terrible moment either.

 

“Loki—Brother—” Thor wheezes. “Thank you.”

 

Tears pour down Loki's cheeks then, and he buries his face at Thor's neck because Thor's eyes are growing glassy and he doesn't want to watch. “Shhh, shhh.”

 

“I—Loki, I love—”

 

“Stop,” Loki cries out, “stop talking!” 

 

“—you . . .”

 

The breath passes out of Thor's lungs for the last time, and Loki cannot hold back the tears anymore. He sobs and pushes harder to Thor's wound to stem the blood flow, but it's too late—his brother isn't  _breathing_ . His ears strain to hear even the beat of the pulse at Thor's neck, but it's not there, or too weak to notice.

 

“N-No,” he mutters to Thor, but it ends up being more for himself. “No no no no,” Loki sits up, startled, and he looks around for something—anything. He summons magic, but there's _none left_! He used the last of it to block the fire from the dragon's throat! “ _No!_ Thor! Wake up!”

 

He can't breathe. Suddenly, all of his resentment, all of his complaining, his personal hatred and grudges—all of them—he doesn't care. Thor and the Warriors Three and Sif always tell him the same things, to train harder, to fight better, to stop relying on magic, to eat more, to just  _be more like Thor_ , and now he wishes with all his might that he had listened!

 

Because maybe—maybe if he'd only tried harder—maybe now, Thor would not have been so helpless in such a useless body, forced to fight in a style that he never trained in. Maybe Loki would never have sought for the spell that caused this dilemma in the first place.

 

It is all his fault. Why has he been so selfish?

 

“Switch,” he says to himself.

 

As the word alights in his mind, he realizes what he wants, even as sobs threaten to tear from his throat.

 

“Switch me back,” he says louder. He understands now. He understands he is not Thor, never will be, and how completely irrational he has been in his jealousy. And now Thor is _dying_ (not dead not dead not dead), and he wants the spell to reverse, like Queen Karnilla implied it would. The dragon is dead. The quest is completed. It's not Thor's fault that Loki can never do anything right! “Give me my body back, you lying wench!”

 

Suddenly Mjolnir beside him perks at his pleas, and magic sparks in the air like lightning. He hears the hammer call to him, but he can't lift her. Only Thor can. But then Loki realizes what he must do. He drags Thor over to her handle and plants Thor's hand on the hammer.

 

At once, wherever Loki touches, Thor's skin buzzes with magic, unlimited magic, and they are united for an instant. Loki whispers pleas and bargains to the heavens if only there can be enough time. He seeps up the magic into his mind and releases it onto Thor's wound.

 

He can't heal it completely, but he stops the blood flow and the poison and nudges Thor's heart to obey.

 

And after several agonizing seconds, he hears Thor's lungs fill with air again.

 


	6. Truth Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor learns of his father's secret, and Loki remains unsatisfied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I get going, an anon brought up a few good points that I want to address. Probably most important is Heimdall. Since the majority of this story was in Thor's POV and Thor never got around to considering Heimdall, the subject never really came up. I implied in Chapter 1 that Loki has the ability to hide things from Heimdall at this point of their lives. One reason Loki's energy for magic is constantly drained is because Loki has been doing so for the entirety of the story, with the exception of last chapter when Thor almost died. So technically, at that point, you could say Heimdall knows. I'll leave that thought to you as you read this chapter.
> 
> Secondly, no, Thor did not suddenly become skilled at using daggers just because he was determined lol. They are both princes of Asgard. I assume that they would have spent their entire lives becoming proficient in several weapons (including daggers and swords), and while clearly neither is their favorite weapon, they can use both to a fair degree. In addition, I've implied this whole time that Loki's senses naturally pay attention to detail better than Thor's. So Thor, with better-than-average training already, found himself determined and in a body that was faster, more attentive, and more used to wielding daggers than usual. Therefore, he had slightly improved aim for all three reasons. You might have also noticed that Loki's aim with daggers was a bit off. Same reason.
> 
> Anyway, happy Sunday, everybody. I decided to just update today because I am so sick of this chapter and want to move onto other things. This is the final chapter! Hope you enjoy!

Thor wakes up less pleasantly than he did two days ago. It's excruciatingly hot, he's still not in the right body, and he doesn't know what's going on. On top of that, he feels like someone clobbered him with Mjolnir after a Bilgeschnipe ran him over.

 

“Werrammaii,” he slurs. He means to ask where he is, but he can't get his mouth to cooperate.

 

“Drink this,” someone murmurs, and Loki knows without a doubt that it's his brother. A water skin pushes at his lips, and he opens his mouth and guzzles down as much water as he can get. “Slowly,” Loki cautions, but Thor doesn't listen. It's unbearably hot, and he is so thirsty.

 

He tastes iron in the back of his throat, and it reminds him of the stinging pain on his shoulder. “Huuurts,” he says.

 

The same voice from before chokes out some sort of sound—almost a sob, but Thor doesn't think Loki has any reason to be crying.

 

“I know, I'm sorry,” Loki says. 

 

His brother sounds odd. And he rarely apologizes for anything. Awareness crawls over Thor's consciousness, and he blinks open his eyes. They haven't moved from the caverns of the volcano, so that explains the heat. Above him, Thor's vision clears to see Loki's face.

 

Loki's eyes are red and twinkly.

 

When Thor looks down at himself, he sees the red cape wrapped around his shoulder where blood has drenched it completely. His hand rests on the hilt of his hammer, and Loki's hands are shaking as they put the water skin away and adjust Thor's make-shift bandages.

 

Thor realizes what has happened. He knows very well how it feels to look down at someone he loves and think that they aren't going to make it. He remembers holding Loki's crumpled form during the night with the Bilgeschnipe so many decades ago, and once the adrenaline had worn off, he hadn't been able to keep himself together. Unconscious, Loki never knew Thor's moment of weakness.

 

Thor reaches up with his uninjured arm to grab Loki's shoulder. “Hey,” he says softly, “are you all right?”

 

Loki shivers—it looks odd in that body, but Thor sees the familiar gesture clear enough. “You almost died,” Loki says. Somehow saying it causes renewed tears to burst from his eyes, and Loki fights back sobs.

 

“It's okay,” Thor murmurs and tugs Loki closer to give him a half hug. “It's okay, I'm okay now.” He clasps the back of his brother's neck and squeezes reassuringly. His grip is weak but it calms Loki the same way it normally would. “You could have gotten me out of this dreadful heat though.”

 

Loki snorts through his tears. “And leave your hammer behind after all that fuss in the ocean?”

 

Thor laughs a little too, but it ends with a grunt of pain. His shoulder burns with each movement, and the heat makes everything more intense and achy. Loki sits back and starts to collect the knives and a few of their belongings he has brought down here.

 

Then Loki moves to pick Thor up.

 

“No, wait,” he groans as Loki touches his arm. “The dragon—we need its head for proof of our victory.”

 

Loki raises an eyebrow. “I can't carry you and a dragon's head.”

 

“I can walk.”

 

“No, you can't. Besides, I got your proof already.” Loki fishes in his bag and then pulls out a large fang, the size of his head at least, and then puts it back in the bag at his belt.

 

Thor admits defeat. Loki carefully swings Thor's arm over his head, and even though Loki naturally is careful, it's hard for him to make his body obey. Thor grunts at every contact with his shoulder, but holds back most of them because he doesn't want to make Loki feel any more guilty than he already looks.

 

Once Thor settles in Loki's arms, Loki stoops a little. “Can you pick up your hammer?”

 

His uninjured hand hangs down near Mjolnir, and he grasps it. “Yeah,” he says.

 

Then, Loki starts walking. The climb back up through the crevice takes longer than it should. Loki has to adjust Thor so that he can use one of his hands, and Thor can't keep both arms wrapped as tightly around Loki as he needs to because one of them holds Mjolnir and the other throbs with agony.

 

Eventually, Loki brings them out into the night, and the cool air greets Thor's overheated body. Thor moans in pleasure at the welcome breeze and the sight of snow. Loki smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

 

“Try not to get too excited. You'll have to walk when I start shivering,” Loki says.

 

Thor grins. “I can walk now if you want.”

 

“I'm fine.” Loki's smile fades. Moonlight shines over his face and reveals more of the redness under his eyes and the firm set of his jaw. And Loki holds him so tight as if he's afraid Thor will slip away.

 

His little brother hurts for some reason—and he doubts it's just because Thor almost died. Thor doesn't want to outright ask, because rare as Loki's mood is right now, Loki always pushes people's concerns away as if they delve into something humiliating. Thor wants to understand, so he thinks long and hard about how to phrase the question.

 

“What are you thinking about?” he chances.

 

Weary eyes glance at him before turning to the path ahead. “The enchantment,” he says.

 

Thor believes him, but he senses more. “And?”

 

“The quest was supposed to switch us back,” Loki says quietly. “It hasn't yet.”

 

Thor's brow creases. “Brother, I'm not angry, if that's why—”

 

“No, it's nothing like that.” The snow crunches louder when Loki picks up his pace a little. “I just thought that I came to a point where I understood what I needed to do to lift the enchantment. But, it didn't work, and so I don't know what I'm still missing.”

 

His brother speaks vaguely, and often Thor finds that he doesn't understand what's going through his head. This time is no different, but he can sense the incredible weight looming on Loki's shoulders and he wants to make sure Loki knows he is heard. “Anything come up yet?” he asks.

 

Loki's jaw tenses. He doesn't speak for a long moment. “Maybe I'm just not trying hard enough,” he says so softly in a normally booming voice that it comes as a surprise.

 

Thor frowns. “What do you mean?” but Loki already shakes his head, and the conversation is over.

 

A sigh flies through his lips. His brother's arms are starting to shake with cold, but Thor doesn't want to interrupt the silence to tell him to let him down. Loki stares off into the distance with a lost look in his eye, and nothing Thor can think of sounds like the right thing to say. Instead, he stares at his brother and wills as much warmth and happiness as possible to find his heart.

 

Suddenly, the snow stops crunching as Loki lurches to a stop. Sunlight begins to leak over the mountain, the first sign of morning. “Thor,” Loki says, “I think you were right.”

 

Thor bites his tongue to avoid telling his brother to put him down. Loki needs this conversation more than Loki is shivering. “Right about what?”

 

“I—I'm just making excuses. It doesn't matter what body I'm born with. I should be working to be as best as I possibly can be, and not claiming my failures as inherent. I'm—I'm sorry, it's my fault you got hurt. My fault th-that my body is so—so weak—”

 

“Loki.” Mjolnir falls and collides on the ground with a loud thunk. Thor brings his hand up and claps his brother's neck. “Loki, no, that was not your fault. You warned me about the tail, and I was careless, as I've always been,” Thor says as he swallows his pride. “Actually, I see now that you were right.”

 

Loki looks towards Thor without really seeing him.

 

Thor squeezes harder to drive his point home. He wants his brother to  _see_ . “Loki, when we were going down to fight the dragon, I did a lot of thinking—”

 

“Oh? No wonder you got hurt.”

 

Loki's way to avoid serious conversations is always to make jokes, so Thor ignores him. “We had more pressing concerns at the time, so I couldn't voice my thoughts, but you are right. We are born a certain way, and because of that, certain things are impossible.”

 

“So instead of failing to be strong, I am born to be weak,” Loki mutters. “Is that what you're trying to say?”

 

“Don't twist this.” Thor pushes at Loki's shoulders with his uninjured arms until Loki finally relents and sets him on the ground. His shoulder throbs, but his feet plant on the ground easily and regenerated blood allows his vision to remain clear of dizziness. “Loki, listen to me,” he continues. “Yes, you were not born as I was. You have to struggle to keep up with us, and especially after the fight with the dragon, I understand that now.”

 

Loki's mouth opens.

 

“No, let me finish,” Thor hurries to cut in. “But Brother, you have much to be proud of. I went in there fighting as I always have and almost died. Not only have you been a worthy ally and companion at my side for years, but even when we switched forms, you were able to adapt more quickly than I could ever dream of.”

 

Loki shakes his head frantically. “Thor, stop.”

 

“Listen to me.” Both of his hands clamp down on his brother's shoulders, and even though he's two inches short, he is the older brother. “Your sharp mind kept us alive. You kept my head on my shoulders and solved our problem in the middle of battle. Your mind, Brother, your wit, your ability to adapt—these are all things that you should be proud of, regardless of whether you were born with them or not.”

 

Unblinking, Loki stares at him. “Do you know why I wanted the Norn stone? Do you want to know the truth?”

 

Thor watches Loki's fists trembling at his sides and stays quiet.

 

“I wanted the Norn stone because I wanted people to _see me_. Like they see you. Instead, Karnilla gave me this.” Loki gestures to Thor's body as if it is a disappointment and his chin starts trembling. “It was as good as saying that making people see me in _my_ body is impossible. It was as good as telling me that the only way I'll ever be worth anything is to be _you_.”

 

The admission stuns Thor to silence for several seconds. “Loki,” Thor finally says. “You are so very valuable, to me especially. How can you not see?”

 

His little brother is crying. Without even speaking, Thor pulls him in to a tight hug and just holds him to ride the episode out.

 

A warm feeling tingles up his back, starting from his heels and moving to the very tip of his spine. He closes his eyes because things start to get very bright and dizzy, and when he chances to re-open them, he finds himself holding a raven-haired, shorter, little brother in his arms instead of the a blond and bulkier form of moments before.

 

They've switched back bodies.

 

Loki is still crying. Despite the joy surging through Thor's blood at finally being himself again, Thor doesn't want to interrupt the eruption of Loki's feelings. He releases his brother's shoulders and sets Loki down on a rock where he just cries into his palms. It hurts Thor so much to see how many tears his brother has held back for so long. When was the last time Thor praised him? He can't remember, and he will have to make more efforts in the future.

 

The sun rises over the peaks of the mountains, and Thor stands by his brother as Loki settles all the feelings he has held back for so long.

 

After a while, Loki begins to stir. His palms lower from his eyes, and he takes in the pale, smooth expanse of the skin of his hands. Then his eyes dart to Thor and then to his own injured shoulder, and he winces a little.

 

“Ow,” is all he says.

 

Thor laughs and puts a hand on the adjacent shoulder.

 

“Remind me to compliment this Norn witch on her exquisite timing,” Loki says. He wipes the evidence of the tears from his face and starts to rearrange the strips of cloth binding his wound together.

 

Meanwhile, Thor admires the view—or the sudden lack thereof. Before the switch, the vast ocean had appeared before him, water shining in an array of colors not unlike a sunset. Now the colors have dulled. His eyes can't detect anything but the grey sea, along with some reflection of the orange sunrise. While a part of him reminisces over the beauty Loki's body granted him, his eyes cross something he didn't expect to see.

 

“Loki, look,” he says and nudges his shoulder.

 

Loki doesn't move for a moment, but when he does, his eyes glare as he lifts his head to see. “What?”

 

And there it is—the ship they abandoned in the storm, and it sails right towards them. After everything that has happened, it gladdens Thor to see the Norns bless them with one miracle.

 

Pleased, Loki smiles. “I told you they would make it.”

 

* * *

Having presented the tooth of the slain dragon, Thor stands before his father and tells the tale of their quest. Loki covers the part where they stole away from the ship, because Thor has never been good at lying and he doesn't want his father to think they were abandoning the Vanir and Asgardians in the storm that  _they_ created, even though that's exactly what they did. No one had been harmed, but it isn't very honorable.

 

When it comes to the actual fight with the dragon, Thor pauses. It doesn't feel right to brag when he barely did anything. Thor holds out a hand and gestures to Loki. “As my brother played more of a role in the fight, I believe he should divulge the rest of our journey to you.”

 

Odin's one eye remains unchanged in the usual kingly composure, but Loki blinks rapidly as if pulled from a deep sleep. He says nothing.

 

Fingers casually rested on Gungir, Odin lifts his head. “Well, Loki? I am interested to hear the rest of the tale.”

 

Halfway through his step forward, Loki straightens with awareness. “I—I did little, Father,” Loki says. “I did land a few blows,” and Thor remembers the strike to the dragon's wing and the sword plunged into the dragon's tail, “and I cast a few spells,” and Thor thinks about the orb of light illuminating the cave and the wall of magic saving them from the fire, even though Loki's reserves of magic were so low in that form, “but Thor is the one who cast the knives that slayed the dragon.”

 

Then, Thor smiles. “Actually, Father, my knives merely marked the spot. Loki is the one who slayed the dragon.”

 

This time, Loki cannot help it. “What?” he stutters. “But you—”

 

At the time, Thor had barely been conscious, but on their journey back, he did remember the roar of the dragon as Loki disappeared from his side. He remembered Loki's battle cry and the clang of metal against scales as he pierced the weak spot that the knives marked. “My brother thought to save me face,” Thor continues, “and told me that it was I, who slayed the dragon, when in actuality, he thrust the killing blow while I was knocked out. He will keep to this lie now, if you let him, I am sure.”

 

The whole audience room quiets in shock. After a few moments, murmurs in the crowd rise, some in awe that the Trickster would actually lie for a selfless reason, and others in outright denial believing Thor to be tricked. Thor fixes his stare on the All-Father exclusively and wills him to believe the story.

 

Gungnir's clang silences the crowd. “It brings me great pleasure to see my sons watching over each other,” Odin says. “With that in mind, Thor Odinson, you are now of the same status as any Einherjar warrior. The celebration will be held tonight.”

 

Cheering erupts all around them, and Thor grins, thoroughly proud and elated. He turns to his brother and swings an arm around him for a mighty hug. Loki smiles back at him, but his expression is still stunned.

 

“Thor, this is meant to be your moment,” Loki whispers.

 

“It's no good without you beside me, Brother,” Thor says in response and pats his brother's back. He makes a greater effort to be gentle, now knowing the irritating force his normal blows can cause. “Go enjoy the celebration. I will let you weave the story for the bards to tell.”

 

Loki beams up at him, and Thor's heart aches at the sight. It's been so long since he's seen such pure joy on his brother's face that it almost blinds him.

 

After another quick embrace, Loki and the rest of the audience drains away from the throne room, leaving Thor and Odin together.

 

Despite the joy he feels, Thor cannot feel just. He cheated. There's no way around it. He lied to his father, he lied to his friends, and he is not worthy of Einherjar status. Loki does not deserve any more criticism, but Thor does have to tell his father the truth.

 

“Father,” he says once the doors to the throne room close behind him. He kneels and clasps a fist over his heart. “Father, I have something I have to tell you, something I should have told you long ago.”

 

“Yes,” Odin says, and Thor looks up surprised.

 

“Father?”

 

“Queen Karnilla spoke to me of the enchantment.” A wry smile crosses Odin's face. “I was wondering when you might work up the nerve to tell me.”

 

Thor glances about the room and his fist falls from his heart, not sure what to do. He shakes his head and looks up at his father. “Then what about my . . . I don't understand,” he says carefully. He expected to tell Odin the truth and have his father take away his Einherjar status. Now he doesn't know what to expect.

 

“It is true that you lied to me. I can see where you were coming from,” Odin explains as he turns to the open expanse where the ever-changing atmosphere of Asgard turns red and gold and orange with the setting of the sun. “I have held back your quest for a very long time, because I was waiting for the right moment. Queen Karnilla gave me the chance I'd been waiting for.”

 

Thor tilts his head back in complete confusion. “What?”

 

“This wasn't a quest to slay the dragon, Thor,” Odin says. “You've already shown me your might and your courage for many, many years. Your final quest was to show your honor, your humility, which you have done today in more ways than one. First, I have on high faith that Queen Karnilla's enchantment would not have broken had you not come to terms with your brother's weaknesses or he with yours. Second, you sacrificed your moment of glory because you felt you did not deserve it. It takes a noble heart to step aside and shed light to your shadow.”

 

A lump rises in Thor's throat, and his heart pounds in his chest.

 

“Third, and probably most importantly, you have been honest with me right now, even though it could mean losing the prize you have sought after for so long.” Odin turns to Thor and smiles. Odin's smiles are so rare, and Thor's heart nearly floats from his chest. “I am proud of you, my son.”

 

“I—thank you, Father.”

 

Between his brother's elation and Odin's pride, he cannot remember a time where he was happier.

* * *

The bards leave most of his accomplishments out of the tale. Loki isn't surprised—they aren't Thor, who loves him no matter what, Asgardian values and expectations aside. But Loki's wine still tastes bitter. Taste and sound and sight is all abnormally bitter after dragging his feet so long in Thor's less sharpened senses.

 

He considered telling Odin the truth when they returned. He still considers it a little. Because he is irritated that even though Thor stepped aside and boasted of Loki's accomplishments to the All-Father and the entirety of Asgard, they all still have eyes only for Thor on his “big day.” This celebration isn't because Loki finally did something worthy for once. It's because Thor became an Einherjar.

 

And little do they know that Thor has no right to be an Einherjar. Thor lied, multiple times, and were Loki to expose that, the Einherjar status would be ripped away from him. Odin might even respect Loki more, for being able to fight like a true Asgardian warrior, even without Mjolnir.

 

But Loki won't say anything in the end. Not because he doesn't want to—he wants everyone's recognition so strongly—but because he fears that telling Odin the truth will make everyone reject him even more than they already do. He doesn't want to see the disgust in his father's eyes. Loki participated no less in the lie than Thor, after all.

 

He sets his wine glass down and sighs. Thor will expect him to be happy, but as usual, he will only spoil the mood.

 

“Greetings, Prince Loki,” a familiar voice greets. “I trust you found my enchantment to your liking?”

 

Loki glances at Queen Karnilla. “I don't have the Norn Stone,” he says.

 

She smiles pleasantly and sits beside him. Now that she no longer hides beneath a hood, Loki finds himself studying the raven tresses of her hair wrapped into a headdress at the top of her head. The height makes her more intimidating, older. The woman in the tavern had seemed hardly more than a girl, despite the wisdom hiding in her eyes.

 

“I know,” she says and surveys the crowd in front of them. “Your brother already returned it to me.”

 

Loki rolls his eyes. “Sounds like him. Even a fool would have kept it.”

 

“Your brother knew what he gave up when he held out his hand. He has learned much humility these last few days,” Karnilla says.

 

Loki snorts. He doesn't want to speak to Karnilla because he still resents that she put him in such a situation, instead of just telling him from the beginning it would never work. She made his problems revolve around Thor, and he cannot forgive her. “You should go,” Loki says. “I fear I may harm our kingdoms' diplomatic relations if I speak to you much longer.”

 

Queen Karnilla's smile stretches, but weariness grows behind it. “You are not pleased then. What troubles you, young Prince? Have you and Prince Thor not reached an understanding?”

 

Telling Thor of his troubles was rare enough. He is not about to share secrets with strangers.

 

“Are you still jealous of your brother?”

 

“I'm not jealous,” Loki says. “I just don't think he deserves all this attention.”

 

Her fingers fold together over her lap, Loki notes. She appears thoughtful, careful. Her pale face wrinkles as she stares at him. “Yet I have already taught you it is only your actions you can control. Just as you cannot will people to look to you, neither may he will others to look away.”

 

Loki shrugs. “He can be humble sometimes, but it never lasts. He does not think the way a king should, and in many ways he is still immature and rash.”

 

“Yes, yes, he is.” Queen Karnilla releases a soft chuckle as people start to crack their glasses on the ground. “As am I,” she continues, “as are you, as is Odin, as are we all. Perfection is unachievable. We may only strive and hope to reach it.”

 

The laughter of the crowd dies down, and Loki looks down at his untouched plate of food. “I just don't understand what they see in him. Why do they think he is perfect?”

 

“Instead of you?”

 

The following silence sends chills down his spine because she's  _right_ . He is jealous, as he always has been, and nothing ever seems to satisfy him. He thinks maybe Odin's appreciation will calm his racing thoughts of doubt and despair, but if he ever obtains that, will it be enough?

 

Queen Karnilla stands and stares sadly down at him. “Prince Loki,” she says. “I misspoke when we first met. You are full of determination  _and_ courage, as would be required of any sane person in a position like yours—I only hope you realize it before it is too late.”

 

Before his mind even fully processes the words, she is gone and Thor is beside him. He wants to laugh, scream, shout, and generally cause a scene, but Thor, the golden crown Prince of Asgard, has just  _allowed_ Loki to brag of his accomplishments to bards who will sing understatements to an audience that won't notice the difference. Debt forces him to stay in the chair and do what he can to hide the sickening turn of his thoughts.

 

“Loki!” He claps his brother on the back, and at least the thump is softer than it used to be. “You'll never guess what Father just told me!”

 

“What?” Loki says and sips again at the wine.

 

“Father told me that the next time he falls into the Odinsleep, he is going to name me King!”

 

Loki's mouth twitches into what appears to be a smile. “I'm so happy for you, Thor.”

* * *

_. . . The fates cannot be tested, but there are bridges—gaps in the future—and all Norns pray these holes will yield better results where tragedy has occurred. Queen Karnilla is no exception, and one may only hope for her efforts to create a brighter bridge. A future that perhaps can bring the two Odinsons' some reconciliation after the drastic changes that will soon shape their world for the worse. A simple coronation ceremony may sour the lives of many, but that end is only just the beginning of the story . . ._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you for reading! I hope the ending left you somewhat satisfied... I hate endings that feel like something's missing, and hope this one didn't do that to you. Please, let me know what you thought! Goodbye for now. :)


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